By  BAYARD  TAYLOR  -\ 


fs 


LA  RS. 


LARS: 


A    PASTORAL    OF    NORWAY. 


BY 


BAYARD    TAYLOR 


BOSTON : 
JAMES   R.  OSGOOD  AND    COMPANY, 

LATE  TICKNOR  &  FIELDS,  AND  FIELDS,  OSGOOD,  &  Co. 
1873. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873, 

BY   JAMES    R.    OSGOOD    &    CO., 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS:  WELCH,  BIGELOW,  &  Co., 
CAMBRIDGE. 


• 


TO 

JOHN  GREENLEAF   WHITTIER. 


THROUGH  many  years  my  heart  goes  back, 

Through  checkered  years  of  loss  and  gain, 
To  that  fair  landmark  on  its  track, 
When  first,  beside  the  Merrimack, 
Upon  thy  cottage  roof  I  heard  the  autumn  rain. 

A  hand  that  welcomed  and  that  cheered 

To  one  unknown  didst  thou  extend ; 
Thou  gavest  hope  to  Song  that  feared ; 
But  now,  by  Time  and  Faith  endeared, 
I  claim  the  sacred  right  to  call  the  Poet,  Friend ! 

5 


DEDICATION. 

However  Life  the  stream  may  stain, 

From  thy  pure  fountain  drank  my  youth 
The  simple  creed,  the  faith  humane 
In  Good,  that  never  can  be  slain, 
The  prayer  for  inward  Light,  the  search  for  outward 
Truth ! 

Like  thee,  I  see  at  last  prevail 

The  sleepless  soul  that  looks  above ; 
I  hear,  far  off,  the  hymns  that  hail 
The  Victor,  clad  in  heavenly   mail, 
Whose  only  weapons  are  the  eyes  and  voice  of  Love ! 

Take,  then,  these  olive  leaves  from  me, 

To  mingle  with  thy  brighter  bays  ! 
Some  balm  of  peace  and  purity, 
In  them,  may  faintly  breathe  of  thee  ; 
And  take  the  grateful  love,  wherein  I  hide  thy  praise  ! 

B.  T. 


% 

CONTENTS. 

BOOK  I.     .       t       .       .       .       .  *    ,       i;      .       .       9 

BOOK  II .*'.-.         55 

BOOK  III.  ..-,....  .    ioi 


BOOK    I. 


BOOK     I. 


ON  curtained  eyes,  and  bosoms  warm  with  rest, 
On  slackened  fingers  and  unburdened  feet, 
On  limbs  securer  slumber  held  from  toil, 
While  nimble  spirits  of  the  busy  blood 
Renewed  their  suppleness,  yet  filled  the  trance 
With  something  happy  which  was  less  than  dream, 
The  sun  of  Sabbath  rose.     Two  hours,  afar, 
Behind  the  wintry  peaks  of  Justedal, 
Unmarked,  he  climbed  ;  then,  pausing  on  the  crest 
Of  Fille  Fell,  he  gathered  up  his  beams 
Dissolved  in  warmer  blue,  and  showered  them  down 
Between  the  mountains,  through  the  falling  vale, 
On  Ulvik's  cottages  and  orchard  trees. 

ii 


LARS. 

And  one  by  one  the  chimneys  breathed ;  the  sail 

That  loitered  lone  along  the  misty  fiord 

Flashed  like  a  star,  and  filled  with  fresher  wind  ; 

The  pasturing  steers,  dispersed  on  grassy  slopes, 

Raised  heads  of  wonder  over  hedge  and  wall 

To  call,  unanswered,  the  belated  cows ; 

And.  ears  that  would  not  hear,  or  heard  in  dreams, 

The  lark's  alarum  over  idle  fields, 

And  lids,  still  sweetly  shut,  that  else  unclosed 

At  touch  of  daybreak,  yielded  to  the  day. 

Then,  last  of  all,  among  the  maidens,  met 
To  dip  fresh  faces  in  the  chilly  fount, 
And  smooth  en  braids  of  sleep-entangled  hair, 
Came  Brita,  glossy  as  a  mating  bird. 
No  need  had  she  to  stoop  and  wash  awake 
Her  drowsy  senses :  air  and  water  kissed 
A  face  as  bright  and  breathing  as  their  own, 

12 


LARS. 

In  joy  of  life  and  conscious  loveliness. 

If  still  her  mirror's  picture  stayed  with  her, 

A  memory,  whispering  how  the  downcast  lid 

Shaded  the  flushing  fairness  of  her  cheek, 

And  hinting  how  a  straying  lock  relieved 

The  rigid  fashion  of  her  hair,  or  how 

The  curve  of  slightly  parted  lips  became 

Half-sad,  half-smiling,  either  meaning  much 

Or  naught,  as  wilful  humor  might  decide,  — 

Yet    thence    was    born    the   grace    she   could   not 

lose: 
Her  beauty,  guarded,  kept  her  beautiful. 

"  Wilt  soon  be  going,  Brita  ? "  Ragnil  asked  ; 
"  And  which  the  way,  —  by  fiord  or  over  fell  ? " 
"  Why,  both  !  "  another  laughed  ;  "  or  else  the  rocks 
Will  split  and  slide  beneath  the  feet  of  Lars, 
Or  Per  will  meet  the  Kraken  ! "     Brita  held 


LARS. 

One    dark-brown    braid    between    her    teeth,    and 

wove 

The  silken  twine  and  tassels  through  its  fringe, 
Before  she  spake;  but  first  she  seemed  to  sigh  : 
"  I  will  not  choose ;  you  shall  not  spoil  my  day ! 
All  paths  are  free  that  lead  across  the  fell ; 
All  wakes  are  free  to  keels  upon  the  fiord, 
And  even  so  my  will :  come  Lars  or  Per, 
Come  Eric,  Anders,  Harald,  Olaf,  Nils, 
Come  sceter-boys,  or  sailors  from  the  sea, 
No  lass  is  bound  to  slight  a  decent  lad, 
Or  walk  behind  him  when  the  way  is  wide." 

"  No  way  is  wide  enough  for  three,  I  Ve  heard," 
Said  Ragnil,  "  save  there  be  two  men  that  prop 
A  third,  when  market 's  over." 

"  Go  your  ways ! " 
Then  Brita  cried :  "  if  two  or  twelve  should  come, 


LARS. 

I  call  them  not,  nor  do  I  bid  them  go  : 
A  friendly  word  is  no  betrothal  ring." 

Then  tossed  she  back  her   braids,  and  with   them 

tossed 

Her  wilful  head.     "  Why,  take  you  both,  or  all ! " 
She  said,  and  left  them,  adding,  "if  you  can !  " 
With  silent  .lips,  nor  cared  what  prudent  fears, 
Old-fashioned  wisdom,  dropped  in  parrot-words, 
Chattered  behind  her  as  she  climbed  the  lane. 
Along  her  path  the  unconverted  bees 
Set  toil  to  music,  and  the  elder-flowers 
Bent  o'er  the  gate  a  snowy  entrance-arch, 
Where,  highest  on  the  slope,  her  cottage  sat. 
Her  bed  of  pinks  there  yielded  to  the  sun 
Its  clove  and  cinnamon  odors  ;  sheltered  there 
Beneath  the  eaves,  a  rose-tree  nursed  its  buds, 
And  through  the  door,  across  the  dusk  within, 

'5 


LARS. 

She  saw  her  grandam  set  the  morning  broth 

And  cut  a  sweeter  loaf.     All  breathed  of  peace, 

Of  old,  indulgent  love,  and  simple  needs, 

Yet  Brita  sighed,  —  then  blushed  because  she  sighed. 

" Dear  Lord  ! "  the  ancient  dame  began,  "  'tis  just 

The  day,  the  sun,  the  breeze,  the  smell  of  flowers, 

As  fifty  years  ago,  in  Hallingdal, 

When  I,  like  thee,  picked  out  my  smartest  things, 

And  put  them  on,  half  guessing  what  would  hap, 

And  found  my  luck  before  I  took  them  off. 

See !  thou  shalt  wear  the  brooch,  my  mother's  then, 

And   thine  when   I   am   gone.       Some    luck,    who 

knows  ? 

May  still  be  shining  in  the  fair  red  stone." 
So,  from  a  box  that  breathed  of  musky  herbs, 
She  took  the  boss  of  roughly  fashioned  gold, 
With  garnets  studded :   took,  but  gave  not  yet. 

16 


LARS. 

Some  pleasure  in  the  smooth,  cool  touch  of  gold, 

Or  wine-red  sparkles,  flickering  o'er  the  stones, 

Or  dream  of  other  fingers,  other  lips 

That  kissed  them  for  the  bed  they  rocked  upon 

That  happy  summer  eve  in  Hallingdal, 

Gave  her  slow  heart  its  girlhood's  pulse  again, 

Her  cheek  one  last  leaf  of  its  virgin  rose. 

O,  foolishness  of  age  !     She  dared  not  say 
What  then  she  felt :  Go,  child,  enjoy  the  bliss 
Of  innocent  woman,  ripe  for  need  of  man, 
And  needing  him  no  less  !     Some  natural  art 
Will  guide  thy  guileless  fancies,  some  pure  voice 
Will  whisper  truth,  and  lead  thee  to  thy  fate  ! 
But,  ruled  by  ancient  habit,  counselled  thus : 
"  Be  on  thy  guard,  my  Brita !  men  are  light 
Of  tongue,  and  unto  faces  such  as  thine 
Mean  not  the  half  they  say :  the  girl  is  prized 

17 


LARS. 

Who  understands  their  ways,  and  holds  them  off 
Till  he  shall  come,  who,  facing  her,  as  she 
And  death  were  one,  pleads  for  his  life  with  her : 
When  such  an  one  thou  meetest,  thou  wilt  know." 

"  Nay,  grandam  ! "  Brita  said  ;  "  I  will  not  hear 
A  voice  so  dreadful-earnest :  I  am  young, 
And  I  can  give  and  take,  not  meaning  much, 
Nor  over-anxious  to  seem  death  to  men  : 
I  like  them  all,  and  they  are  good  to  me. 
I  '11  wear  thy  brooch,  and  may  it  bring  me  luck, 
Not  such  as  thine  was,  as  I  guess  it  was, 
But,  in  the  kirk,  short  sermon,  cheerful  hymn, 
Good  neighbors  on  the  way,  and  for  the  dance 
A  light-foot  partner ! "     With  a  rippling  laugh 
That  brushed  the  surface  of  her  heart,  and  hid 
Whatever  doubt  its  quiet  had  betrayed, 
She  kissed  the  withered  cheek,  and  on  her  breast 

18 


LARS. 

Pinned  the  rough  golden  boss  with  wine-red  stones. 
"  Come,  Brita,  come  ! "  rang  o'er  the  elder-flowers  : 
"  I  come  ! "  she  answered,  threw  her  fleeting  face 
Upon  the  little  mirror,  took  her  bunch 
Of  feathered  pinks,  and  joined  the  lively  group 
Of  Sundayed  lads  and  lasses  in  the  lane. 

They  set  themselves  to  climb  the  stubborn  fell 
By  stony  stairs  that  left  the  fields  below, 
And  ceased,  far  up,  against  the  nearer  blue. 
But  lightly  sprang  the  maids  ;  and  where  the  slides 
Of  ice  ground  smooth  the  slanting  planes  of  rock, 
Strong  arms  drew  up  and  firm  feet  steadied  theirs. 
Here  lent  the  juniper  a  prickly  hand, 
And  there  they  grasped  the  heather's  frowsy  hair, 
While  jest  and  banter  made  the  giddy  verge 
Secure  as  orchard-turf ;  and  none  but  showed 
The  falcon's  eye  that  guides  the  hunter's  foot, 

19 


LARS. 

Till  o'er  their  flushed  and  breathless  faces  struck 
The  colder  ether ;  on  the  crest  they  stood, 
And  sheltered  vale  and  ever-winding  fiord 
Sank  into  gulfs  of  shadow,  while  afar 
To  eastward  many  a  gleaming  tooth  of  snow 
Cut  the  full  round  of  sky. 

"  Why,  look  you,  now ! " 

Cried  one  ;  "  the  fiord  is  bare  as  threshing-floor 
When  winter 's  over :  what 's  become  of  Per  ? " 
"And  what  of  Lars  ? "  asked  Ragnil,  with  a  glance 
At  Brita's  careless  face  ;  "can  he  have  climbed 
The  Evil  Pass,  and  crossed  the  thundering  foss, 
His  nearest  way  ? "  As  clear  as  blast  of  horn 
There  came  a  cry,  and  on  the  comb  beyond 
They  saw  the  sparkle  of  a  scarlet  vest. 
Then,  like  the  echo  of  a  blast  of  horn, 
A  moment  later,  fainter  and  subdued, 
A  second  cry  ;  and  far  to  left  appeared 

20 


LARS. 


A  form  that  climbed  and  leaped,  and  nearer  strove. 
And  Harald,  Anders  Ericssen,  and  Nils 
Set  their  three  voices  to  accordant  pitch 
And  shouted  one  wild  call  athwart  the  blue, 
Until  it  seemed  to  quiver :  as  they  ceased 
The  maids  began,  and,  moving  onward,  gave 
Strong  music :  all  the  barren  summits  rang. 

So  from  the  shouts  and  girlish  voices  grew 
The  wayward  chorus  of  a  sceter-song, 
Such  as  around  the  base  of  Skagtolstind 
The  chant  of  summer-jotun  seems,  when  all 
The  herds  are  resting  and  the  herdsmen  meet ; 
And  while  it  swept  with  swelling,  sinking  waves 
The  crags  and  ledges,  Lars  had  joined  the  band, 
And  from  the  left  came  Per ;  and  Brita  walked 
Between  them  where  the  path  was  broad,  but  when 
It  narrowed  to  such  track  as  tread  the  sheep 

21 


LARS. 

Round  slanting  shoulder  and  o'er  rocky  spur 

To  reach  the  rare,  sweet  herbage,  one  went  close 

Before  her,  one  behind,  and  unto  both 

With  equal  cheer  and  equal  kindliness 

Her  speech  was  given  :  so  both  were  glad  of  heart. 

A  herdsman,  woodman,  hunter,  Lars  was  strong, 
Yet  silent  from  his  life  upon  the  hills. 
Beneath  dark  lashes  gleamed  his  darker  eyes 
Like  mountain-tarns  that  take  their  changeless  hue 
From  shadows  of  the  pine  :  in  all  his  ways 
He  showed  that  quiet  of  the  upper  world 
A  breath  can  turn  to  tempest,  and  the  force 
Of  rooted  firs  that  slowly  split  the  stone. 
But  Per  was  gay  with  laughter  of  the  seas 
Which  were  his  home  :  the  billow  breaking  blue 
On  the  Norwegian  skerries  flashed  again 
Within  his  sunbright  eyes  ;  and  in  his  tongue, 

22 


LARS. 

Set  to  the  louder,  merrier  key  it  learned 

In  hum  of  rigging,  roar  of  wind  and  tide, 

The  rhythm  of  ocean  and  its  wilful  change 

Allured  all  hearts  as  ocean  lures  the  land. 

Now  which,  this  daybreak  with  his  yellow  locks, 

Or  yonder  twilight,  calm,  mysterious,  filled 

With  promise  of  its  stars,  shall  turn  the  mind 

Of  the  light  maiden  who  is  neither  fain 

To  win  nor  lose,  since,  were  the  other  not, 

Then  each  were  welcome  ? —  how  should  maid  decide  ? 

For  that  the  passion  of  the  twain  was  marked, 

And  haply  envied,  and  a  watch  was  set, 

She  would  be  strong  :  and,  knowing,  seem  as  though 

She  nothing  knew,  until  occasion  came 

To  bid  her  choose,  or  teach  her  how  to  choose. 

On  each  and  all  the  soberness  of  morn 
Yet  lay,  the  weight  of  hard  reality 

23 


LARS. 

' 
That  even  clogs  the  callow  wings  of  love ; 

And  now  descending,  where  the  broader  vale 
Showed  farm  on  farm,  and  groves  of  birch  and  oak, 
And  fields  that  shifted  gloss  like  shimmering  silk, 
The  kirk-bells  called  them  through  the  mellow  air, 
Slow-swinging,  till,  as  from  a  censer's  cup 
The  smoke  diffused  makes  all  the  minster  sweet, 
The  peace  they  chimed  pervaded  earth  and  sky. 
As  under  foliage  of  the  lower  land 
The  pathway  led,  more  harmless  fell  the  jest, 
The  laugh  less  frequent :  then  the  maidens  drew 
Apart,  set  smooth  their  braids,  their  kirtles  shook, 
And  grave,  decorous  as  a  troop  of  nuns, 
Entered  the  little  town.     Ragnil  alone 
And  Anders  Ericssen  together  walked, 
For  twice  already  had  their  banns  been  called. 
Lars  shot  one  glance  at  Brita,  as  to  say  : 
"  Were  thou  and  I  thus  promised,  side  by  side  ! " 

24 


LARS. 

Then  looked  away  ;  but  Per,  who  kept  as  near 
As  decent  custom  let,  all  softly  sang  : 
"  Forget  me  thou,  I  shall  remember  still ! " 
That  she  might  hear  him,  and  so  not  forget. 
Thus  onward  to  the  gray  old  kirk  they  moved. 

The  bells  had  ceased  to  chime :  the  hush  within 
With  holy  shuddering  from  the  organ-bass 
Was  filled,  and  when  it  died  the  prayer  arose. 
Then  came  another  stillness,  as  the  Lord 
Were  near,  or  bent  to  listen  from  afar, 
And  last  the  text ;  but  Brita  found  it  strange. 
Thus  read  the  pastor :  "  Set  me  as  a  seal 
Upon  thy  heart,  yea,  set  me  as  a  seal 
Upon  thine  arm  ;  for  love  is  strong  as  death, 
And  jealousy  is  cruel  as  the  grave." 
She  felt  the  garnets  burn  upon  her  breast, 
As  if  all  fervor  of  the  olden  love 

25 


LARS. 

Still  heated  them,  and  fire  of  jealousy, 

And  to  herself  she  thought :  "  Has  any  face 

Looked  on  me  with  a  love  as  strong  as  death  ? 

But  I  am  Life,  and  how  am  I  to  know  ? " 

Then,  straightway  weary  of  the  puzzle,  she 

Began  to  wander  with  her  dancing  thoughts 

Out  o'er  the  fell,  and  up  and  down  the  slopes 

Of  sunny  grass,  while  ever  and  anon 

The   preacher's   solemn   voice   struck   through    her 

dream, 

Its  sound  a  menace  and  its  sense  unknown. 
Then  she  was  sad,  and  vexed  that  she  was  sad 
And  vexed  with  them  who  only  could  have  caused 
Her  sadness:  "Grandam's luck,  forsooth! "she  thought: 
"  If  one  were  luck,  why,  two  by  rights  were  more, 
But  two  a  plague,  a  lesser  plague  were  one, 
And  not  a  fortune  ! "     So,  till  service  ceased, 
And  all  arose  when  benediction  came, 

26 


LARS. 

She  mused  with  pettish  thrust  of  under  lip, 
Nor  met  the  yearning  eyes  of  Lars  and  Per. 

The  day's  grave  duty  done,  forth  issued  all, 
Foregathering  with  the  Vossevangen  youth, 
The  girls  of  Graven  and  the  boys  of  Vik, 
Where  under  elms  before  the  guest-house  front 
Stood  tables  brown  with  age  :  already  bore 
The  host  his  double-handed  bunch  of  cans 
Fresh-filled  and  foaming  ;  and  the  cry  of  Skoal! 
Mixed  with  the  clashing  kiss  of  glassy  lips. 
But  when  in  gown  of  black  the  pastor  came, 
All  rose,  respectful,  waiting  for  his  words. 
A  pace  in  front  stood  Anders  Ericssen, 
Undignified  in  bridegroom  dignity, 
Because  too  conscious  :  Ragnil  blushed  with  shame, 
And  all  the  maidens  envied  her  the  shame, 
When  reverend  fingers  tapped  her  cheek,  and  he, 

27 


LARS. 

That  good  man,  said :  "  How  fares  my  bonny  bride  ? 
She  must  not  be  the  last  this  summer  ;  look, 
My  merry  lads,  what  harvest  waits  for  you  ! " 
And  on  the  maidens  turned  his  twinkling  eyes, 
That  beamed  a  blessing  with  the  playful  words. 

Then  Lars  slipped  nearer  Brita,  where  she  stood 
Withdrawn  a  little,  underneath  the  trees. 
"  You  heard  the  pastor,"  said  he  ;  "  would  you  next 
Put  on  the  crown  ?  not  you  the  harvest,  nay, 
The  reaper,  rather ;  and  the  grain  is  ripe." 
"  A  field,"  she  answered,  "  may  b'e  ripe  enough 
When  half  the  heads  are  empty,  and  the  stalks 
Are  choked  with  cockle.     I  've  no  mind  to  reap. 
Indeed,  I  know  not  what  you  mean  :  the  speech 
The  pastor  uses  suits  not  you  nor  me." 
She  meant  reproof,  yet  made  reproof  so  sweet 
By  feigned  impatience,  which  betrayed  itself, 

28 


LARS. 

That  Lars  bent  lower,  murmured  with  quick  breath : 

"  O,  take  my  meaning,  Brita !     Give  me  one,  — 

But  one  small  word  to  say  that  you  are  kind, 

But  one  kind  word  to  tell  me  you  are  free, 

And  I  not  wholly  hateful !  "     "  Lars  ! "  she  cried, 

Her  frank,  sweet  sympathy  aroused,  "  not  so  ! 

As  friendly-kind  as  I  can  be,  I  am, 

But  free  of  you,  and  all ;  and  that 's  enough ! 

You  men  would  walk  across  the  growing  grain, 

And  trample  it  because  it  is  not  ripe 

Before  the  harvest."     Thereupon  she  smiled, 

Sent  him  one  dewy  glance  that  should  have  been 

Defiant,  but  a  promise  seemed  ;   then  turned, 

And  hastening,  almost  brushed  the  breast  of  Per. 

He  caught  her  by  the  hands,  that  Viking's  son, 
Whose  fathers  wore  the  eagle-helm,  and  stood 
With  Frithiof  at  the  court  of  Angantyr, 

29 


LARS. 

Or  followed  fair-haired  Harald  to  the  East, 
Though  fishing  now  but  herring,  cod,  and  bass, 
Not  men.  and  merchant-galleys  :  he  was  red 
With  mead,  no  less  than  sun  and  briny  air : 
He  caught  her  by.  the  hands,  and  said,  as  one 
Who  gives  command  and  means  to  be  obeyed  : 
"  You  '11  go  to  Ulvik,  Brita,  by  the  fiord  ! 
Bjorn  brings  my  boat ;   the  wind  is  off  the  sea, 
But  light  as  from  a  Bergen  lady's  fan : 
Say,  then,  you  '11  go ! " 

The  will  within  his  words 
Struck  Brita  harshly.     For  a  moment  she 
Pondered  refusal,  then,  with  brightening  face 
Turned  suddenly,  and  cried  to  all  the  rest : 
"  How  fine  of  Per  !  we  need  not  climb  the  fell : 
He  '11  bear  us  all  to  Ulvik  by  the  fiord ; 
Bjorn  brings  his  boat ;   the  wind  is  off  the  sea  ! " 
And  all  the  rest,  with  roaring  skoal  to  Per, 

3° 


LARS. 

Struck  hands  upon  the  offer ;    only  he 
For  plan  so  friendly  showed  a  face  too  grim. 
He    set    his   teeth    and    muttered :     "  Caught    this 
time, 

But  she  shall  pay  it ! "  till  his  discontent 
Passed,  like  a  sudden  squall  that  tears  the  sea, 
Yet  leaves  a  sun  to  smile  the  billows  down. 
His  jovial  nature,  bred  to  change,  was  swayed 
By  the  swift  consequence  of  Brita's  whim, 
The  grasp  of  hand,  the  clap  of  shoulder,  clink 
Of  brimming  glass,  and  whispers  overheard 
Of  "  Luck  to  Per,  and  Bjorn,  and  all  the  boys 
That  reap,  but  sow  not,  on  the  rolling  fields ! " 
And  Brita,  too,  no  sooner  punished  him 
Than  she  relented,  and  would  fain  appease ; 
Whence,  fluttering  to  and  fro,  she  kept  the  plan 
Alive,  yet  made  its  kindness  wholly  Per's  : 
Only,  when  earnestly  to  Lars  she  said : 

31 


LARS. 

"  You  '11  go  with  us  ? "  he  answered  sullenly : 
"  I  will  not  go  :  my  way  is  o'er  the  fell. " 

He  did  not  quit  them  till  they  reached  the  strand, 

And  on  the  stern-deck  and  the  prow  was  piled 

The  bright,  warm  freight  ;    then  chose  a  dangerous 

path, 

A  rocky  ladder  slanting  up  the  crags, 
And  far  aloft  upon  a  foreland  took 
His  seat,  with  chin  upon  his  clenching  hands, 
To  watch  and  muse,  in  love  and  hate,  alone. 
But  they  slid  off  upon  a  wind  that  filled 
The  sail,  yet  scarcely  heeled  the  boat  a-lee  : 
They  seemed  to  rest  above  a  hanging  sky 
Twixt    shores    that    went    and    shores   that    slowly 

came 

In  silence,  and  the  larger  shadows  fell 
From  heaven-high  walls,  a  darker  clearness  in 

32 


LARS. 

The  air  above,  the  firmament  below, 
Crossed  by  the  sparkling  creases  of  the  sea. 
Bjorn  at  the  helm  and  Per  to  watch  the  wind, 
They  scarcely  sailed,  but  soared  as  eagle  soars 
O'er  Gousta's  lonely  peak  with  moveless  plumes, 
That,  level-set,  cut  the  blue  planes  of  air ; 
And  out  of  stillness  rose  that  sunset  hymn 
Of  Sicily,  the  O  sanctissima  ! 
That  swells  and  fluctuates  like  a  sleepy  wave. 
Thus  they  swam  on  to  where  the  fiord  is  curved 
Around  the  cape,  where  through  a  southward  cleft 
Some  wicked  sprite  sends  down  his  elfish  flaws. 
So  now  it  chanced :  the  vessel  sprang,  and  leaned 
Before  the  sudden  strain ;  but  Per  and  Bjorn 
Held  the  hard  bit  upon  their  flying  steed, 
And  laughing,  sang  :  "  Out  on  the  billows  blue 
You  needs  must  dance,  and  on  the  billows  blue 
You  sleep,  a  babe,  rocked  by  the  billows  blue  ! " 


LARS. 

As  suddenly  the  gust  was  over  :  then 
Found  Per  a  seat  by  Brita.   "  Did  you  fear  ?  " 
He  said  ;  and  she  :  "  Who  fears  that  sails  with  Per  ? " 
"  Nay,  then,"  he  whispered,  "  never  fear  me  more, 
As  twice  to-day :  why  give  me  all  this  freight, 
When  so  much  less  were  so  much  more  to  me  ?  " 
"  Since  when  were  maidens  free  as  fishermen  ? 
Not  since  the  days  of  Brynhild,  I  believe  "  ; 

f 

She  answered,  sharply  :  "  I  was  fain  to  sail, 
And  place  for  me  meant  place  for  more  beside." 
"  Not  in  my  heart,"  he  said  ;  "  it  holds  and  keeps 
Thee  only  ;   thou  canst  not  escape  my  love  "  ; 
And  tried  to  take  her  hand  :  she,  bending  o'er 
The  low,  black  bulwarks,  saw  a  crimson  spark 
Drop  on  the  surface  of  the  pale-green  wave, 
And  sink,  surrounded  by  a  golden  gleam. 
"O,  grandam's  brooch  !"  she  cried,  and  started  up, 
Sat  down  again,  and  hid  her  face,  and  wept. 

34 


LARS. 

Some  there  lamented  as  the  loss  were  theirs, 

Some  shook  their  heads  in  ominous  dismay, 

But  all  agreed  that,  save  a  fish  should  bring 

The  jewel  in  its  maw  (and  tales  declared 

The  thing  once  happened),  none  would  see  it  more. 

Said  Guda  Halstensdatter :  "  I  should  fear 

An  evil,  had  I  lost  it."     Thorkil  cried  : 

"  Be  silent,  Guda  !    Loss  is  grief  enough 

For  Brita :  would  you  frighten  her  as  well  ? 

There  's  many  think  that  jewels  go  and  come, 

Having  some  life  or  virtue  of  their  own 

That  drives  them  from  us  or  that  brings  them  back. 

'T  was  so  with  my  great-grandam's  wedding-ring. " 

*  jf 

"  Now,  how  was  that  ? "  all  asked ;  and  Thorkil  spake : 
"  Why,  not  a  year  had  she  been  wedded,  when 
The  ring  was  gone  :  how,  where,  a  mystery. 
It  was  a  bitter  grief,  but  nothing  happed 

35 


LARS. 

Save  losses,  ups  and  downs,  that  come  to  all : 
Both  took  their  lot  in  patience  and  in  hope, 
And  worked  the  harder  when  the  luck  was  least. 
So  from  the  moorland  and  the  stony  brake 
They  won  fresh  fields ;  and  now,  when  came  around 
The  thirteenth  harvest,  and  the  grain  was  ripe 
On  that  new  land,  my  grandsire,  then  a  boy, 
One  morn  came  leaping,  shouting,  from  the  field. 
High  in  his  hand  he  held  a  stalk  of  wheat, 
And  round  the  ripened  ear,  between  the  beards, 
Hung,  like  a  miracle,  the  wedding-ring  ! 
And  father  heard  great-grandam  say  it  shone 
So  wonderful,  she  dropped  upon  her  knees  ; 
She  thought  God's  finger  touched  it,  giving  back. 
Who  knows  what  fish  may  pounce  on  Brita's  brooch 
Before  it  reach  the  bottom  of  the  fiord, 
And  then,  what  fisher  net  the  fish  ? "   Some  there 
Began  to  smile  at  this,  and  Per's  blue  eyes 

36 


LARS. 

Danced  with  a  cheerful  light,  as,  in  the  cove 
Of  Ulvik  entered,  fell  his  sagging  sail. 
No  more  spake  Brita ;  homeward  up  the  hill 
She  walked  alone,  sobbing  with  grief  and  dread. 

» 
The  world  goes  round :  the  sun  sets  on  despair, 

The  morrow  makes  it  hope.     Each  little  life 

Thinks  the  great  axle  of  the  universe 

Turns  on  its  fate,  and  finds  impertinence 

In  joy  or  grief  conflicting  with  its  own. 

Yet  fate  is  woven  from  unnoted  threads  ; 

Each  life  is  centred  in  the  life  of  all, 

And  from  the  meanest  root  some  fibre  runs 

Which  chance  or  destiny  may  intertwine 

With  those  that  feed  a  force  or  guiding  thought, 

To  rule  the  world  :  so  goes  the  world  around. 

And  Brita's  loss,  that  made  all  things  seem  dark, 

37 


LARS. 

t 

Was  soon  outgrieved :  came  Anders'  wedding-day 

And  Ragnil's,  and  the  overshining  joy 
Of  these  two  hearts  from  others  drove  the  shade. 
Forth  from  her  home  the  ruddy  bride  advanced, 
Not  fair,  but  made  so  by  her  bridal  bliss, 
The  tall  crown  on  her  brow,  and  in  her  hand 
The  bursting  nosegay  :  Anders,  washed  and  sleeked, 
With  ribbons  on  his  hat,  from  head  to  foot 
Conscious  of  all  he  wore,  each  word  he  spake, 
And  every  action  for  the  day  prescribed, 
Stuck  to  her  side.    It  was  a  trying  time  ; 
But  when  the  strange  truth  was  declared  at  last 
That  they  were  man  and  wife,  so  greeted  with 
The  cries  of  flute  and  fiddle,  crack  of  guns, 
And  tossing  of  the  blossom-brightened  hats, 
They  breathed  more  freely;  and  the  guests  were  glad 
That  this  was  over,  since  the  festival 
Might  now  begin,  and  mirth  be  lord  of  all. 

38 


LARS. 

In  Ragnil's  father,  Halfdan's  home,  the  casks 
Of  mead  were  tapped,  the  Dantzig  brandy  served 
In  small  old  glasses,  and  the  platters  broad, 
Heaped  high  with  salmon,  cheese,  and  caviar, 
Tempted  and  soothed  before  the  heavier  meal. 
No  guest  in  duty  failed  ;  and  Per  began  — 
The  liquor's  sting,  the  day's  infection  warm 
Upon  his  blood  —  to  fix  his  sweetheart's  word, 
Before  some  wind  should  blow  it  otherwhere. 
"  Your  hand,  my  Brita,"  stretching  his,  —  "your  hand 
For  all  the  dances  :  see,  my  heels  are  light ! 
I  have  a  right  to  ask  you  for  amends, 
But  ask  it  as  a  kindness."    "  Nay,"  she  said, 
"You  have  no  right ;  but  I  will  dance  one  dance 
With  you,  as  any  other."     "  Will  you  then  ?  " 
He  cried,  and  caught  her  sharply  by  the  wrist : 
"  I  '11  not  be  '  any  other,'  do  you  hear  ? 
I  '11  be  the  one,  the  only  one,  whose  foot 

39 


LARS. 

Keeps  time  with  yours,  my  heart  the  tune  thereto  ! " 
Then  shouting  comrades  whirled  him  from  her  side, 
And  Ragnil  called  the  maids,  to  show  her  stores 
Of  fine-spun  linen,  lavendered  and  cool 
In  nutwood  chests,  her  bed  and  canopy 
Painted  with  pictures  of  the  King  and  Queen, 
And  texts  from  Scripture,  o'er  the  pillows  curled 
Where  she  and  Anders  should  that  night  repose. 
They  shut  the  door  to  keep  the  lads  without, 
Then  shyly  stole  away  ;  and  Brita  found 
Alone,  among  the  garden  bushes,  Lars. 

His  eyes  enlarged  and  brightened  as  she  came  ; 
He  said,  in  tones  whose  heartful  sweetness  made 
Her  pulses  thrill :  "  I  will  not  bind  you  yet : 
Dance  only  first  with  me  that  sceter-dance 
You  learned  on  Graafell :  Nils  will  play  the  air. 
Then  take  your  freedom,  favor  whom  you  will. 

40 


LARS. 

I  shall  not  doubt  you,  now  and  evermore." 

"  But,  Lars  "  —  she  said,  then  paused  ;  he  would  not 

% 

wait : 

The  mirthful  guests  drew  near.     "  I  '11  keep  you,  then," 
He  whispered  ;  "  till  I  needs  must  let  you  go. 
This  much  will  warm  me  on  the  windy  fells, 
Make  sunshine  of  the  mists,  melt  frost  in  dew, 
And  paint  the  rocks  with  roses."     Could  she  turn 
From  that  brave  face,  those  calm,  confiding  eyes  ? 
Could  she,  in  others'  sight,  reject  the  hand 
Now  leading  to  the  board  ?    If  so,  too  late 
Decision  came,  for  she  had  followed  him, 
And  sat  beside  him  when  the  horns  of  mead 
Made  their  slow  pilgrimage  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
And  while  the  stacks  of  bread  sank  low,  the  haunch 
Of  stall-fed  ox  diminished  to  the  bone, 
Till  multeberries,  Bergen  gingerbread, 
With  wine  of  Spain,  made  daintier  end  of  all. 

41 


LARS. 

Then,  like  a  congress  of  the  blackbirds,  held 

In  ancient  tree-tops  on  October  eves, 

The  tables  rang  and  clattered  ;  but,  erelong, 

Brisk  hands  had  stripped  them  bare,  and,  turning  down 

The  leaves,  made  high-backed  settles  by  the  wall. 

Through  all  the  bustle  and  the  din  were  heard 
The  fiddle-strings  of  Nils,  as  one  by  one 
They  chirped  and  squeaked  in  dolorous  complaint, 
Until  the  bent  ear  and  the  testing  bow 
Found  them  accordant :  then  a  flourish  came 
That  scampered  up  and  down  the  scale,  and  lapsed 
In  one  long  note  that  hovered  like  a  bird, 
Uncertain  where  to  light ;  but  so  not  long : 
It  darted  soon,  a  lark  above  the  fells, 
And  spun  in  eddying  measures.     Here  a  pair, 
And  there  another,  took  the  vacant  floor, 
Then  Lars  and  Brita,  sweeping  in  the  dance 

42 


LARS. 

That  whirled  and  paused,  as  if  a  mountain  gust 
Blew  them  together,  tossed,  and  tore  apart. 
And  ever,  when  the  wild  refrain  came  round, 
Lars  flung  himself  and  sidewards  turned  in  air, 
Yet  missed  no  beat  of  music  when  he  fell. 
"By  holy  Olaf !  "  gray-haired  Halfdan  cried  : 
"  There  's  not  a  trick  we  knew  in  good  old  days, 
But  he  has  caught  it :  so  I  danced  myself." 

Upon  the  sweeping  circles  entered  Per, 
Held  back,  at  first,  and  partially  controlled 
By  them  who  saw  the  current  of  his  wrath, 
And  whitherward  it  set ;  but  now,  when  slacked 
The  fiery  pulses  of  the  dance,  he  broke 
Through  all,  and  rudely  thrust  himself  on  Lars. 
"  Your  place  belongs  to  me,"  he  hoarsely  cried,  — 
"  Your  place  and  partner  ! "     "  Brita  's  free  to  choose," 
Said  Lars,  "  and  may  be  bidden  ;  but  this  floor 

43 


LARS. 

Is  not  your  deck,  nor  are  you  captain  mine : 
I  think  your  throat  has  made  your  head  forget." 
Lars  spake  the  truth  that  most  exasperates  : 
His  words  were  oil  on  flame,  and  Per  resolved, 
So  swayed  by  reckless  anger,  to  defy 
Then,  once,  and  wholly.     "  Deck  or  not, "  said  he, 
"  You  know  what  right  I  mean  :  you  stand  where  I 
Allow  you  not :  I  warn  you  off  the  field  ! " 
Lars  turned  to  Brita :  "  Does  he  speak  for  you  ?  " 
She  shook  her  head,  but  what  with  shame  and  fear 
Said  nothing :  "  We  have  danced  our  soeter-dance," 
He  further  spake,  "  and  now  I  go  :  when  next 
We  meet  at  feast,  I  claim  another  such." 
"  Ay,  claim  it,  claim ! "  Per  shouted  ;  "  but  you  '11  first 
Try  knives  with  me,  for  blood  shall  run  between 
Your  words  and  will :  where  you  go,  I  shall  be. " 
"  So  be  it :  bid  your  mother  bring  your  shroud  !  " 
Lars  answered  ;  and  he  left  the  marriage  house. 

44 


LARS. 

•  '  ,, 

The  folk  of  Ulvik  knew,  from  many  a  tale 
Of  feud  and  fight,  from  still  transmitted  hates 
And  old  Berserker  madness  in  their  blood, 
What  issue  hung :  but  whoso  came  between 
Marked  that  the  mediation  dwelt  with  her 
Who  stood  between  :  if  she  would  choose,  why,  then 
The  lover  foiled  forsooth  must  leave  in  peace 
The  lover  favored,  —  further  strife  were  vain. 
But  Lars  was  far  upon  the  windy  heights, 
And  Per  beyond  the  skerries  on  the  sea, 
.  And  Ragnil  bustling  busy  as  a  wife, 
That  might  have  helped ;  while  those  to  Brita  came, 
More  meddlesome  than  kind,  who  hurt  each  nerve 
They  touched  for  healing.     What  could  she,  but  cry 
In  tears  and  anger :  "  Shall  I  seek  them  out, 
Bestow  myself  on  one,  take  pride  for  love, 
And  forfeit  thus  all  later  pride  in  me  ? 
Rather  refuse  them  both,  and  on  myself 

45 


LARS. 

Turn  hate  of  both  :  their  knives,  i'  faith !  were  dull 

Beside  your  cutting  tongues ! "     She  vowed,  indeed, 

In  moonlit  midnights,  when  she  could  not  sleep, 

And  either  window  framed  a  rival  face, 

That  seemed  to  wait,  with  set,  reproachful  eyes, 

To  smile  on  neither,  hold  apart  and  off 

Their  fatal  kindness.     She  repel,  that  drew  ? 

As  if  an  open  rose  could  will  away 

Its  hue  and  scent,  a  lily  arm  its  stem 

With  thorns,  a  daisy  turn  against  the  sun  ! 

The  fields  were  reaped  ;  the  longer  shadows  thrown 
From  high  Hardanger  and  the  eastern  range 
Began  to  chill  the  vales  :  it  was  the  time 
When  on  the  meadow  by  the  lonely  lake 
Of  Graven,  from  the  regions  round  about 
The  young  men  met  to  hold  their  wrestling-match, 
As  since  the  days  of  Olaf  they  had  done. 

46 


LARS. 

There,  too,  the  maids  came  and  the  older  folk, 
Delighting  in  the  grip  of  strength  and  skill, 
The  strain  of  sinew,  stubbornness  of  joint, 
And  urge  of  meeting  muscles.     All  the  place    - 
Was  thronged,  and  loud  the  cheers  and  laughter  rang 
When  some  old  champion  from  a  rival  vale 
Bent  before  fresher  arms,  and  from  his  base 
Wrenched  ere  he  knew,  fell  heavily  to  earth. 
Until  the  sun  across  the  fir-trees  laid 
His  lines  of  level  gold,  they  watched  the  bouts ; 
Then  strayed  by  twos  and  threes  toward  the  sound 
Of  wassail  in  the  houses  and  the  booths. 

And  Brita  with  her  Ulvik  gossips  went. 
Once  only,  when  a  Laerdal  giant  brought 
Sore  grief  upon  the  men  of  Vik,  she  saw 
Or  seemed  to  see,  beyond  the  stormy  ring, 
The  shape  of  Lars  ;  but,  scarce  disquieted 

47 


LARS. 

If  it  were  he,  or  if  the  twain  were  there, 

(Since  blood,  she  thought,  must  surely  cool  in  time,) 

She  followed  to  the  house  upon  the  knoll 

Where  ever  came  and  went,  like  bees  about 

Their  hive's  low  doorway,  groups  of  merry  folk. 

A  mellow  dusk  already  filled  the  room  ; 

The  chairs  were  pushed  aside,  and  on  the  stove, 

As  on  a  throne  of  painted  clay,  sat  Nils. 

Behold  !  Lars  waited  there  ;  and  as  she  reached 

The  inner  circle  round  the  dancing-floor 

He  moved  to  meet  her,  and  began  to  say 

"  Thanks  for  the  last "  —  when  from  the  other  side 

Strode  Per. 

The  two  before  her,  face  to  face, 
Stared  at  each  other :  Brita  looked  at  them. 
All  three  were  pale  ;  and  she,  with  faintest  voice, 
Remembering  counsel  of  the  tongues  unkind, 
Could  only  breathe :  "  I  know  not  how  to  choose." 


LARS. 

"  No  need  ! "  said  Lars:  "  I  choose  for  you,"  said  Per. 
Then  both  drew  off  and  threw  aside  their  coats, 
Their  broidered  waistcoats,  and  the  silken  scarves 
About  their  necks  ;    but  Per  growled   "  All ! "   and 

made 

His  body  bare  to  where  the  leathern  belt 
Is  clasped  between  the  breast-bone  and  the  hip. 
Lars  did  the  same ;  then,  setting  tight  the  belts, 
Both  turned  a  little  :  the  low  daylight  clad 
Their  forms  with  awful  fairness,  beauty  now 
Of  life,  so  warm  and  ripe  and  glorious,  yet 
So  near  the  beauty  terrible  of  Death. 
All  saw  the  mutual  sign,  and  understood  ; 
And  two  stepped  forth,  two  men  with  grizzled  hair 
And  earnest  faces,  grasped  the  hooks  of  steel 
In  cither's  belt,  and  drew  them  breast  to  breast, 
And  in  the  belts  made  fast  each  other's  hooks. 
An  utter  stillness  on  the  people  fell 

49 


LARS. 

While  this   was    done  :  each    face    was    stern    and 

strange, 

And  Brita,  powerless  to  turn  her  eyes, 
Heard  herself  cry,  and  started :  "  Per,  O  Per ! " 

When  those  two  backward  stepped,  all  saw  the  flash 
Of  knives,  the  lift  of  arms,  the  instant  clench 
Of  hands  that  held  and  hands  that  strove  to  strike : 
All  heard  the  sound  of  quick  and  hard-drawn  breath, 
And  naught  beside  ;  but  sudden  red  appeared, 
Splashed  on  the  white  of  shoulders  and  of  arms. 
Then,  thighs  intwined,  and  all  the  body's  force 
Called  to  the  mixed  resistance  and  assault, 
They  reeled  and  swayed,  let  go  the  guarding  clutch, 
And  struck  out  madly.     Per  drew  back,  and  aimed 
A  deadly  blow,  but  Lars  embraced  him  close, 
Reached  o'er  his  shoulder  and  from  underneath 
Thrust  upward,  while  upon  his  ribs  the  knife, 

50 


LARS. 


Glancing,  transfixed  the  arm.     A  gasp  was  heard : 
The  struggling  limbs  relaxed ;  and  both,  still  bound 
Together,  fell  upon  the  bloody  floor. 

Some  forward  sprang,  and  loosed,  and  lifted  them 
A  little  ;  but  the  head  of  Per  hung  back, 
With  lips  apart  and  dim  blue  eyes  unshut, 
And  all  the  passion  and  the  pain  were  gone 
Forever.     "  Dead  !  "  a  voice  exclaimed  ;  then  she, 
Like  one  who  stands  in  darkness,  till  a  blaze 
Of  blinding  lightning  paints  the  whole  broad  world, 
Saw,  burst  her  stony  trance,  and  with  a  cry 
Of  love  and  grief  and  horror,  threw  herself 
Upon  his  breast,  and  kissed  his  passive  mouth, 
And  loud  lamented :  "  O,  too  late  I  know 
I  love  thee  best,  my  Per,  my  sweetheart  Per  ! 
Thy  will  was  strong,  thy  ways  were  masterful ; 
I  did  not  guess  that  love  might  so  command ! 


LARS. 

Thou  wert  my  ruler :     I  resisted  thee, 

But  blindly  :   O,  come  back !  —  I  will  obey." 

Within  the  breast  of  Lars  the  heart  beat  on, 
Yet  faintly,  as  a  wheel  more  slowly  turns 
When  summer  drouth  has  made  the  streamlet  thin. 
They  stanched  the  gushing  life  ;  they  raised  him  up, 
And  sense  came  back  and  cleared  his  clouded  eye 
At  Brita's  voice.     He  tried  to  stretch  his  hand  : 
"  Where  art  thou,  Brita  ?     It  is  time  to  choose  : 
Take  what  is  eft  of  him  or  me  !  "     He  paused  : 
She  did  not  answer.     Stronger  came  his  voice : 
"  I  think  that  I  shall  live  :  forget  all  this ! 
'T  was  not  my  doing,  shall  not  be  again, 
If  only  thou  wilt  love  me  as  I  love." 
"  I  love  thee  ? "  Brita  cried  ;  "  who  murderest  him 
I  loved  indeed  !     Why  should  I  wish  thee  life, 
Except  to  show  thee  I  can  hate  instead  ? " 

52 


LARS. 

A  groan  so  deep,  so  desperate  and  sad 
Came  from  his  throat,  that  men  might  envy  him 
Who  lay  so  silent ;  then  they  bore  him  forth, 
While  others  smoothed  the  comely  limbs  of  Per. 
His  mother,  next,  unrolled  the  decent  shroud 
She  brought  with  her,  as  ancient  custom  bade, 
To  do  him  honor ;  for  man's  death  he  died, 
Not  shameful  straw-death  of  the  sick  and  old. 

53 


BOOK    II. 


BOOK     II 


LARS  lived,  because  the  life  within  his  frame 

Refused  to  leave  it ;  but  his  heart  was  dead, 

He  thought,  for  nothing  moved  him  any  more. 

He  spake  not  Brita's  name,  and  every  path 

Where  he  had  scattered  fancies  of  the  maid 

Like  seeds  of  flowers,  but  whence,  instead,  had  grown 

Malignant  briers,  to  clog  and  tear  his  feet, 

Was  hated  now :  so,  all  that  once  seemed  life, 

So  bright  with  power  and  purpose,  rich  in  chance, 

And  dropping  rest  from  every  cloud  of  toil, 

Became  a  weariness  of  empty  days. 

Thus,  not  to  'scape  the  blood-revenge  for  Per 
Which  Thorsten  vowed,  his  brother :  not  to  shun 

57 


LARS. 

The  tongues  and  eyes  of  censure  or  reproach, 
Or  spoken  pity,  angering  more  than  these ; 
But,  since  each  rock  upon  the  lonely  fell 
Kept  echoes  of  her  voice,  each  cleft  of  blue 
Where  valleys  wandered  downward  to  the  wave 
Held  shadows  of  her  form,  each  meadow-sod 
Her  footprints,  —  all  the  land  so  filled  with  her, 
Once  hope,  delight,  but  desolation  now,  — 
Forth  must  he  go,  beyond  his  father's  hearth, 
Beyond  the  vales,  beyond  the  teeth  of  snow, 
The  shores  and  skerries,  till  the  world  become 
Too  wide  for  knowledge  of  his  evil  fate, 
Too  strange  for  memory  of  his  ruined  love ! 

He  recked  not  where ;  but  into  passive  moods 
Some  spirit  drops  a  leaven,  to  point  anew 
Men's  aimless  forces.     Was  it  only  chance 
That  now  recalled  a  long-forgotten  tale  ? 

58 


LARS. 

How  Leif,  his  mother's  grandsire,  crossed  the  seas 

To  those  new  lands  the  great  Gustavus  claimed : 

How,  in  The  Key  of  old  Calmar,  their  ship, 

A  trooper  he,  with  Printz  the  Governor, 

Sailed  days  and  weeks  ;  the  blue  would  never  turn 

To  shallower  green,  and  landsmen  moped  in  dread, 

Till  shores  grew  up  they  scarce  believed  were  such, 

Low-lying,  fresh,  as  if  the  hand  of  God 

Had  lately  finished  them.     But  farther  on 

The  curving  bay  to  one  broad  river  led, 

Where  cabins  nestled  on  the  rising  banks, 

With  mighty  woods,  and  mellow  intervales, 

Inviting  corn  and  cattle.     Then  rejoiced 

The  Swedish  farmers,  and  were  set  ashore  ; 

But  on  the  level  isle  of  Tinicum 

Printz  built  a  fort,  and  there  the  trooper,  Leif, 

Abode  three  years  :  and  he  was  fain  to  tell, 

When  wounds  and  age  had  crippled  him,  how  fair 

59 


LARS. 

And  fruitful  was  the  land,  how  full  of  sun 

And  bountiful  in  streams,  —  and  pity  't  was 

The  strong  Norse  blood  could  not  have  stocked  it  all ! 

Lars  knew  not  why  these  stories  should  return 
To  haunt  his  gloomy  brain  :  but  it  was  so, 
And  on  the  current  of  his  memory  launched 
His  thought,  and  followed  ;  then  neglected  will 
Awoke,  and  on  the  track  of  thought  embarked, 
And  soon  his  life  was  borne  away  from  all 
It  knew,  and  burst  the  adamantine  ring 
Which  bound  its  world  within  the  greater  world. 
As  one  who,  wandering  by  the  water-side, 
Steps  in  an  empty  boat,  and  sits  him  down, 
Not  knowing  that  his  step  has  loosed  the  chain, 
And  drifts  away,  unwitting,  on  the  tide, 
So  he  was  drifted  :  no  farewell  he  spake, 
But  happy  Ulvik  and  the  fiord  and  fell 

Co 


LARS. 

Passed  from  his  eyes,  and  underneath  his  feet 
The  world  went  round,  until  he  found  himself, 
Like  one  aroused  from  sleep,  upon  the  hills 
That  roll,  the  heavings  of  the  boundless  blue. 

As  unto  Leif,  his  mother's  grandsire,  so 
To  him  it  seemed  the  blue  would  never  turn 
To  shallower  green,  till  shining  fisher-sails 
Came,  stars  of  land  that  rose  before  the  land  ; 
Then  fresher  shores  and  climbing  river-banks, 
And  broken  woods  and  mellow  intervales, 
With  houses,  corn,  and  cattle.     There,  perchance, 
He  dreamed,  the  memory  of  Leif  might  bide 
Upon  the  level  isle  of  Tinicum, 
Or  farms  of  Swedish  settlers  :  if 't  were  so, 
One  stone  was  laid  whereon  to  build  a  home. 
But  when  the  vessel  at  the  city's  wharf 
Dropped  anchor,  and  the  bright  new  land  was  won, 

61 


LARS. 

The  high  red  houses  and  the  sober  throngs 

Were  strange  to  him,  and  strange  the  garb  and  speech. 

Awhile  he  lingered  there ;  until,  outgrown 

The  tongue's  first  blindness  and  the  stranger's  shame, 

His  helpless  craft  was  turned  again  to  use. 

Then  sought  he  countrymen,  and,  finding  now 
Within  the  Swedish  Church  at  Weccacoe 
No  Norse  but  in  the  features,  else  all  changed, 
He  left  and  wandered  down  the  Delaware 
Unto  the  isle  of  Tinicum  ;  and  there 
Of  all  that  fortress  of  the  valiant  Printz 
Some  yellow  bricks  remained.     The  name  of  Leif 
Who  should  remember  ?     Do  we  call  to  mind, 
Years  afterward,  the  clover-head  we  plucked 
Some  morn  of  June,  and  smelled,  and  threw  away  ? 
But  when  we  find  a  life  erased  and  lost 
Beneath  the  multitude's  unsparing  feet, — 

62 


LARS. 

A  life  so  clearly  beating  yet  for  us 

In  blood  and  memory,  —  comes  a  sad  surprise : 

So  Lars  went  onward,  losing  hope  of  good, 

To  where,  upon  her  hill,  fair  Wilmington 

Looks  to  the  river  over  marshy  meads. 

He  saw  the  low  brick  church,  with  stunted  tower, 

The  portal-arches,  ivied  now  and  old, 

And  passed  the  gate :  lo  !  there,  the  ancient  stones 

Bore  Norland  names  and  dear,  familiar  words  ! 

It  seemed  the  dead  a  comfort  spake :  he  read, 

Thrusting  the  nettles  and  the  vines  aside, 

And  softly  wept :  he  knew  not  why  he  wept, 

But  here  was  something  in  the  strange  new  land 

That  made  a  home,  though  growing  out  of  graves. 

Led  by  a  faith  that  rest  could  not  be  far, 
Beyond  the  town,  where  deeper  vales  bring  down 
The  winding  brooks  from  Pennsylvanian  hills, 

63 


LARS. 

He  walked  :  the  ordered  farms  were  fair  to  see, 
And  fair  the  peaceful  houses :  old  repose 
Mellowed  the  lavish  newness  of  the  land, 
And  sober  toil  gave  everywhere  the  right 
To  simple  pleasures.     As  by  each  he  passed, 
A  spirit  whispered :  "  No,  not  there ! "  and  then 
His  sceptic  heart  said :  "  Never  anywhere  !  " 

The  sun  was  low,  when,  with  the  valley's  bend, 
There  came  a  change.     Two  willow-fountains  flung 
And  showered  their  leafy  streams  before  a  house 
Of  rusty  stone,  with  chimneys  tall  and  white  ; 
A  meadow  stretched  below  ;  and  dappled  cows, 
Full-fed,  were  waiting  for  their  evening  call. 
The  garden  lay  upon  a  sunny  knoll, 
An  orchard  dark  behind  it,  and  the  barn, 
With  wide,  warm  wings,  a  giant  mother-bird, 
Seemed  brooding  o'er  its  empty  summer  nest. 

64 


LARS. 

Then  Lars  upon  the  roadside  bank  sat  down, 

For  here  was  peace  that  almost  seemed  despair, 

So  near  his  eyes,  so  distant  from  his  life 

It  lay  :  and  while  he  mused,  a  woman  came 

Forth  from  the  house,  no  servant-maid  more  plain 

In  her  attire,  yet,  as  she  nearer  drew, 

Her  still,  sweet  face,  and  pure,  untroubled  eyes 

Spake  gentle  blood.     A  browner  dove  she  seemed, 

Without  the  shifting  iris  of  the  neck, 

And  when  she  spake  her  voice  was  like  a  dove's, 

Soft,  even-toned,  and  sinking  in  the  heart. 

Lars  could  not  know  that  loss  and  yearning  made 

His  eyes  so  pleading ;  he  but  saw  how  hers 

Bent  on  him  as  some  serious  angel's  might 

Upon  a  child,  strayed  in  the  wilderness. 

She    paused,    and    said :     "  Thou    seemest    weary, 

friend," 
But  he,  instead  of  answer,  clasped  his  hands. 

65 


LARS. 

The  silent  gesture  wrought  upon  her  mind  : 
She  marked  the  alien  face ;  then,  with  a  smile 
That  meant  and  made  excuse  for  needful  words, 
She  said  :  "  Perhaps  thou  dost  not  understand  ?  " 
"  I  understand,"  Lars  answered ;  "  you  are  good. 
Indeed,  I  'm  weary  :  not  in  hands  and  feet, 
But  tired  of  idly  owning  them.     I  see 
A  thousand  fields  where  I  could  take  my  bread 
Nor  stint  the  harvest,  and  a  thousand  roofs 
That  shelter  corners  where  my  head  might  rest, 
Nor  steal  another's  pillow  ! " 

As  to  seek 

The  meaning  of  his  words,  she  mused  a  space. 
In  that  still  land  of  homes,  how  should  she  guess 
What  fancies  haunt  a  homeless  heart  ?    Yet  his 
Was  surely  need  ;  so,  presently,  she  spake  : 
"  Work  only  waits,  I  've  thought,  for  willing  hands  ; 
A  meal,  and  shelter  for  the  night,  we  give 

66 


LARS. 

To  all  that  ask ;  what  more  is  possible 

Rests  with  my  father."     Lars  arose  and  went 

Beside  her,  where  the  cows  came  loitering  on 

With  udders  swelled,  and  meadow-scented  breath, 

Through  opened  bars  and  up  the  grassy  lane. 

"  Ho,  Star  !  "  and  "  Pink  !  "  he  called  them  coaxingly 

In  soft  Norse  words :  they  stared  as  if  they  knew. 

"  See,  lady  ! "  then  he  cried  :  "  the  honest  things 

Like  him  that  likes  them,  over  all  the  world." 

But    "  Nay,"    she    said,     "  not    '  lady '  !  —  call    me 

Ruth: 

My  father's  name  is  Ezra  Mendenhall, 
And  hither  comes  he  :  I  will  speak  for  thee." 

So  Lars  was  sheltered,  and  when  evening  fell, 
And  all,  around  the  clean  and  peaceful  board, 
Kept  the  brief  silence  which  is  fittest  prayer 
Before  the  bread  is  broken,  he  was  filled 

67 


LARS. 

With  something  calm  which  was  akin  to  peace, 

With  something  restless,  which  was  almost  hope. 

The  white-haired  man  with  placid  forehead  sat 

And  faced  him,  grave  as  any  Bergen  judge, 

Yet  kindly  ;  he  the  stranger's  claim  allowed, 

And  ample  space  for  hunger,  ere  he  spake : 

"  What,  then,  might  be  thy  name  ? "    "  My  name  is 

Lars, 

The  son  of  Thorsten,  in  the  Norway  land. 
My  father  said  the  blood  of  heathen  kings 
Runs  in  our  veins,  but  we  are  Christian  men, 
Who  work  the  more  because  of  idle  sires, 
And  speak  the  truth,  and  try  to  live  good  lives." 

Lars  ceased,  as  if  a  blow  had  closed  his  mouth, 
But  Ezra  said  :  "  The  name  sounds  heathenish, 
Indeed,  yet  hardly  royal ;  blood  is  naught  to  us, 
Yea,  less  than  naught,  or  I,  whose  fathers  served 

68 


LARS. 

The  third  man  Edward,  and  his  kindly  wife, 
Philippa,  loved  the  vanities  pf  courts 
And  cast  away  the  birthright  of  their  souls, 
Were  now,  perchance,  a  worldly  popinjay, 
The  Lord  forgetting  and  provoking  Him 
Me  to  forget.     But  this  is  needless  talk : 
Thy  hands  declare  that  thou  art  bred  to  work ; 
Thy  face,  methinks,  is  truthful ;  if  thy  life 
Be  good,  I  know  not.     I  can  trust  no  more 
Than  knowledge  justifies,  and  charity 
Bids  us  assume  until  the  knowledge  comes." 

"  No  more  I  ask,"  Lars  answered  ;  "  simple  ways 
To  me  are  home-ways  :  I  can  learn  to'  serve, 
Because,  when  others  served  me,  I  was  just." 

"  Our  ways  are  strange  to  thee,"  said  Ezra ;  "  thine 
Unsuitable,  if  here  too  long  retained. 

69 


LARS. 

The  just  in  spirit  find  in  outward  things 

A  voice  and  testimony,  which  may  not 

Be  lightly  changed :  wha^sayest  thou  to  this  ?  " 

"  To   change    in    mine  ?      Why,    truly,    't  were    no 

change 

To  do  thy  bidding,  yet  to  call  thee  friend ; 
To  use  the  speech  of  brethren,  as  at  home ; 
And,  feigning  not  the  faith  that  still  may  part, 
To  bide  in  charity  till  knowledge  comes,  — 
So  much,  without  a 'promise,  I  should  give." 

"  Thou  speakest  fairly,"  Ezra  said  ;  "  to  me 
Is  need  of  labor  less  than  faithful  will, 
But  this  includes  the  other :  if  thou  stand 
The  easier  test,  the  greater  then  may  come. 
The  man  who  feels  his  duty  makes  his  own 
The  beasts  he  tends  or  uses,  and  the  fields, 

70 


LARS. 

Though  all  may  be  another's."     "  Then,"  said  Ruth, 

"  My  cows  already  must  belong  to  Lars  : 

His  speech  was  strange,  and  yet  they  understood." 

So  Lars  remained.     That  night,  beneath  the  roof, 
His  head  lay  light ;  the  very  wind  that  breathed 
Its  low,  perpetual  wail  among  the  boughs 
Sufficed  to  cheer  him,  and  the  one  dim  star 
That    watched    him    from    the    highest    heaven    of 

heavens 

Made  morning  in  his  heart.     Too  soon  passed  off 
The  exalted  mood,  too  soon  his  rich  content 
Was  tarnished  by  the  daily  round  of  toil, 
And  all  things  grown  familiar  ;  yet  his  pride, 
That  rose  at  censure  for  each  petty  fault 
Of  ignorance,  supported  while  it  stung. 
And  Ezra  Mendenhall  was  just,  and  Ruth 
Serenely  patient,  sweetly  calm  and  kind  : 


LARS. 

So,  month  by  month,  the  even  days  were  born 
And  died,  the  nights  were  drowned  in  deeper  rest, 
And  fields  and  fences,  streams  and  stately  woods, 
Fashioned  themselves  to  suit  his  newer  life, 
Till  ever  fainter  grew  those  other  forms 
Of  fiord  and  fell,  the  high  Hardanger  range, 
And  Romsdal's  teeth  of  snow.     Yea,  Brita's  eyes 
And  Per's  hot  face  he  learned  to  hold  away, 
Save  when  they  vexed  his  helpless  soul  in  dreams. 

The  land  was  called  Hockessin.     O'er  its  hills, 
High,  wide,  and  fertile,  blew  a  healthy  air : 
There  was  a  homestead  set  wherever  fell 
A  sunward  slope,  and  breathed  its  crystal  vein, 
And  up  beyond  the  woods,  at  crossing  roads, 
The  heart  of  all,  the  ancient  meeting-house  ; 
And  Lars  went  thither  on  an  autumn  morn. 
Beside  him  went,  it  happened,  Abner  Cloud, 

72 


LARS. 

A  neighbor ;  rigid  in  the  sect,  and  rich, 
And  it  was  rumored  that  he  crossed  the  hill 
To  Ezra's  house,  oftener  than  neighbor-wise. 
This  knew  not  Lars :  but  Abner's  eye,  he  thought, 
Fell  not  upon  him  as  a  friend's  should  fall, 
And  Abner's  tongue  perplexed  him,  for  its  tone 
Was  harsh  or  sneering  when  his  words  were  fair. 
He  spake  from  every  quarter,  as  a  man 
Who  seeks  a  tender  spot,  or  wound  unhealed, 
And  probes  the  surface  which  he  seems  to  soothe 
Until  some  nerve  betrays  infirmity. 
This,  only,  were  the  two  alone  :  if  Ruth 
Came  near,  his  face  grew  mild  as  curded  milk, 
And  unctuous  kindness  overflowed  his  lips 
Precise  and  thin,  as  who  should  godlier  be  ? 
Perhaps  he  wooed,  but  'twas  a  wooing  strange, 
Lars  fancied,  or  his  heart  were  other  stuff 
Than  those  are  made  of  which  can  bless  or  slay. 

73 


LARS. 

It  was  a  silent  meeting.     Here  the  men 
And  there  the  women  sat,  the  elder  folk 
Facing  the  younger  from  their  rising  seats, 
With  faces  grave  beneath  the  stiff,  straight  brim 
Or  dusky  bonnet.     They  the  stillness  breathed 
Like  some  high  air  wherein  their  souls  were  free, 
And  on  their  features,  as  on  those  that  guard 
The  drifted  portals  of  Egyptian  fanes, 
Sat  mystery  :  the  Spirit  they  obeyed 
By  voice  or  silence,  as  the  influence  fell, 
Was  near  them,  or  their  common  seeking  made 
A  spiritual  Presence,  mightier  than  the  grasp 
Of  each,  possessed  in  reverence  by  all. 
But  o'er  the  soul  of  Lars  there  lay  the  shade 
Of  his  own  strangeness :  peace  came  not  to  him. 
Awhile  he  idly  watched  the  flies  that  crawled 
Along  the  hard,  bare  pine,  or  marked,  in  front, 
The  close-cut  hair  and  flaring  lobes  of  ears, 

74 


LARS. 

Until  his  mind  turned  on  itself,  and  made 
A  wizard  twilight,  where  the  shapes  of  life 
Shone  forth  and  faded  :  subtler  sense  awoke, 
But  dream-like  first,  and  then  the  form  of  Per 
Became  a  living  presence  which  abode  ; 
And  all  the  pain  and  trouble  of  the  past 
Threatened  like  something  evil  yet  to  come. 
At  last,  that  phantasm  of  his  memory  sat 
Beside  him,  and  would  not  be  banished  thence 
By  will  or  prayer :  he  lifted  up  his  face, 
And  met  the  cold  gray  eyes  of  Abner  Cloud. 

The  man,  thenceforward,  seemed  an  enemy, 
And  Ruth,  he  scarce  knew  why,  but  all  her  ways 
So  cheered  and  soothed,  a  power  to  subjugate 
The  devil  in  his  heart.     But  now  the  leaves 
Flashed  into  glittering  jewels  ere  they  fell ; 
The  pastures  lessened,  and,  when  day  was  done, 

75 


LARS. 

Came  quiet  evenings,  bare  of  tale  and  song, 

Such  as  beneath  Norwegian  rafters  shook 

Tired  lids  awake  ;  and  wearisome  to  Lars, 

Till  Ruth,  who  noted,  fetched  the  useless  books 

Of  school-girl  days,  and  portioned  him  his  task, 

Herself  the  teacher.     Oft  would  Ezra  smile 

To  note  her  careful  and  unyielding  sway. 

"  Nay,  now,"   he  said  ;  "  I  thought  our  speech  was 

plain, 

But  thou  dost  hedge  each  common  phrase  with  thorns, 
Like  something  rare  :  dost  thou  not  make  it  hard  ? :> 
"  A  right  foundation,  father,"  she  replied, 
"  Makes  easy  building  :  thus  it  is  in  life. 
I  teach  thee,  Lars,  no  other  than  the  Lord 
Requires  of  all,  through  discipline  that  makes 
His  goodness  hard  until  it  lives  in  us." 
With  paler  cheeks  Lars  turned  him  to  his  task, 
Thus  innocently  smitten  ;  but  his  mind 

76 


LARS. 

Increased  in  knowledge,  till  the  alien  tongue 
Obeyed  the  summons  of  his  thought.     So  toil 
Brought  freedom,  and  the  winter  passed  away. 

Where  Lars  was  blind,  the  eyes  of  Abner  Cloud 

Saw  more  than  was.     This  school-boy  giant  drew, 

He  fancied,  like  a  rank  and  chance-sown  weed 

Beside  some  wholesome  plant,  the  strength  away 

From  his  desire,  of  old  and  rightful  root. 

'T  was  not  that  Ruth  should  love  the  stranger,  —  no ! 

But  woman's  interest  is  lightly  caught, 

So  hers  by  Lars,  that  might  have  turned  to  him. 

Had  he  not  worldly  goods,  and  honest  name, 

And  birthright  in  the  meeting  ?    Who  could  weigh 

Unknown  with  these  deserts  ?  —  but  gentleness 

Is  blind,  and  goodness  ignorant ; .  so  he, 

By  malice  made  sagacious,  learned  to  note 

The  large,  strong  veins  that  filled  and  rose,  although 

77 


LARS. 

The  tongue  was  still,  the  clench  of  powerful  hands, 

The  trouble  hiding  in  the  gloomy  eye, 

And  wrought  on  these  by  cunning  words.   But  most 

He  played  with  forms  of  Scandinavian  faith 

In  that  old  time  before  King  Olaf  came, 

And  made  their  huge,  divine  barbarities, 

Their  strength  and  slaughter,  fields  of  frost  and  blood, 

More  hideous.     "  These  are  fables,  thou  wilt  claim," 

It  was  his  wont  to  say ;  "  but  such  must  nurse 

A  people  false  and  cruel." 

Then  would  Lars 

Reply  with  heat :  "  Not  so  !  but  honest  folk,  instead, 
Too  frank  to  hide  the  face  of  any  fault, 
And  free  from  all  the  evil  crafts  that  breed 
In  hearts  of  cowards  !  " 

Ruth,  it  rarely  chanced, 

Heard  aught  of  this,  but  when  she  heard,  her  voice 
Came  firm  and  clear  :  "  Indeed,  it  is  not  good 

78 


LARS. 

To  drag  those  times  forth  from  their  harmless  graves. 
Their  ignorance  and  wicked  strength  are  dead, 
And  what  of  good  they  knew  was  not  their  own, 
But  ours  as  well :  this  is  our  sole  concern, 
To  feed  the  life  of  goodness  in  ourselves 
And  all,  that  so  the  world  at  last  escape 
The  darkness  of  our  fathers  far  away." 

As  when  some  malady  within  the  frame 
Is  planted,  slowly  tainting  all  the  blood, 
And  underneath  the  seeming  healthy  skin 
In  secret  grows  till  strong  enough  to  smite 
With  rank  disorder,  so  the  strife  increased  ; 
And  Lars  perceived  the  devil  of  his  guilt 
Had  made  a  darkness,  where  he  ambushed  lay 
And  waited  for  his  time.     Against  him  rose 
The  better  knowledge,  breeding  downy  wings 
Of  prayer,  yet  shaken  by  mistrust  and  hate 

79 


LARS. 

At  touch  of  Abner's  malice.     Thus  the  hour, 
The  inevitable,  came. 

A  Sabbath  morn 

Of  early  spring  lay  lovely  on  the  land. 
Upon  the  bridge  that  to  the  barn's  broad  floor 
Led  from  the  field,  stood  Lars  :  his  eyes  were  fixed 
Upon  his  knife,  and,  as  he  turned  the  blade 
This  way  and  that,  and  with  it  turned  his  thought, 
While  musing  if 't  were  best  to  cover  up 
This  witness,  or  to  master  what  it  told, 
Close  to  the  haft  he  marked  a  splash  of  rust, 
And  shuddered  as  he  held  it  nearer.     "  Blood, 
And  doubtless  human  ! "  spake  a  wiry  voice, 
And  Abner  Cloud  bent  down  his  head  to  look. 
A  sound  of  waters  filled  the  ears  of  Lars 
And  all  his  flesh  grew  chill :  he  said  no  word. 
"  I  have  thy  history,  now,"  thought  Abner  Cloud, 
And  in  the  pallid  silence  read  but  fear ; 

80 


LARS. 

So  thus  aloud  :  "  Thou  art  a  man  of  crime, 

The  proper  offspring  of  the  godless  tribes 

Who  drank  from  skulls,  and  gnawed  the  very  bones 

Of  them  they  slew.     This  is  thine  instrument, 

And  thou  art  hungering  for  its  bloody  use. 

Say,  hast  thou  ever  eaten  human  flesh  ? " 

Then  all  the  landscape,  house,  and  trees,  and  hills, 
Before  the  eyes  of  Lars,  burned  suddenly 
In  crimson  fire :  the  roaring  of  his  ears 
Became  a  thunder,  and  his  throat  was  brass. 
Yet  one  wild  pang  of  deadly  fear  of  self 
Shot  through  his  heart,  and  with  a  mighty  cry 
Of  mingled  rage,  resistance,  and  appeal, 
He  flung  his  arms  towards  heaven,  and  hurled  afar 
The  fatal  knife.     This  saw  not  Abner  Cloud  : 
But  death  he  saw  within  those  dreadful  eyes, 
And  turned  and  fled.     Behind  him  bounded  Lars, 

81 


LARS. 

The  man  cast  off,  the  wild  beast  only  left, 
The  primal  savage,  who  is  born  anew 
In  every  child.     Not  long  had  been  the  race, 
But  Ezra  Mendenhall,  approaching,  saw 
The  danger,  swiftly  thrust  himself  between, 
And  Lars,  whose  passion-blinded  eyes  beheld 
An  obstacle,  that  only,  struck  him  down. 
Then  deadly  hands  he  dashed  at  Abner's  throat, 
But  they  were  grasped  :  he  heard  the  cry  of  Ruth, 
Not  what  she  said :  he  heard  her  voice,  and  stood. 

She  knew  not  what  she  said :  she  only  saw 
The  wide  and  glaring  eyes  suffused  with  blood, 
The  stiff-drawn  lips  that,  parting,  showed  the  teeth, 
And  on  the  temples  every  standing  vein 
That  throbbed,  dumb  voices  of  destroying  wrath. 
The  soul  that  filled  her  told  her  what  to  do : 
She  dropped  his  hands  and  softly  laid  her  own 

82 


LARS. 

Upon  his  brow,  then  looked  the  devil  down 

Within  his  eyes,  till  Lars  was  there  again. 

Erelong  he  trembled,  while,  o'er  all  his  frame 

A  sweat  of  struggle  and  of  agony 

Brake  forth,  and  from  his  throat  a  husky  sob. 

He  tried  to  speak,  but  the  dry  tongue  refused ; 

He    could    but    groan,    and   staggered   towards   the 

house,. 
As  walks  a  man  who  neither  hears  nor  sees. 

With  bloodless  lips  of  fear  gasped  Abner  Cloud: 
"  A  murderer !  "  as  Ezra  Mendenhall 
Came,  stunned,  and  with  a  wound  across  his  brow. 
"  O,  never ! "  Ruth  exclaimed  ;  but  she  was  pale. 
She  bound  her  father's  head  ;  she  gave  him  drink  ; 
She  steadied  him  with  arms  of  gentle  strength, 
Then  spake  to  Abner  :  "  Now,  I  pray  thee,  go  !  " 
No  more  :  but  such  was  her  authority 

83 


LARS. 

Of  speech  and  glance,  the  spirit  and  the  power, 
That  he  obeyed,  and  turned,  and  left  the  place. 

Then  Ezra's  strength  came  back ;  and  "Ruth,"  he  said, 

"  I  see  thou  hast  a  purpose :  let  me  know ! " 

"  I  only  feel,"  she  answered,  "  that  a  soul 

Is  here  in  peril,  but  the  way  to  help 

Is  not  made  plain :  the  knowledge  will  be  given." 

"  I  have  no  fear  for  thee,  my  daughter  :  do 

What  seemeth  good,  and  strongly  brought  upon 

Thy  mind  by  plain  direction  of  the  Lord ! 

There  is  a  power  of  evil  in  the  man 

That  might  be  purged,  if  once  he  saw  the  light." 

She  left  him,  seated  in  the  sunny  porch  : 
Within  the  house  and  orchard  all  was  still, 
Nor  found  she  Lars,  at  first.     But  she  was  driven 
By  that  vague  purpose  which  was  void  of  form, 

84 


LARS. 

And  climbed,  at  last,  to  where  his  chamber  lay, 

Beneath  the  rafters.     On  the  topmost  step 

He  sat,  his  forehead  bent  upon  his  knees, 

A  bundle  at  his  side,  as  when  he  came. 

He  raised  his  head :  Ruth  saw  his  eyes  were  dull, 

His  features  cold  and  haggard,  and  his  voice, 

When  thus  he  spake  to  her,  was  hoarse  and  strange 

"  Thou  need'st  not  tell  me  :  I  already  know. 

I  hope  thou  thinkest  it  is  hard  to  me. 

I  am  a  man  of  violence  and  blood, 

Not  meet  for  thy  pure  company  ;  and  now 

When  unto  peaceful  ways  my  heart  inclined, 

And  thou  hadst  shown  the  loveliness  of  good, 

My  guilt,  not  yet  atoned,  brings  other  guilt 

To  drive  me  forth  :  and  this  disgrace  is  worst." 

Ruth  stood  below  him  where  he  sat :  she  laid 
One  hand  upon  the  hand  upon  his  knee, 

85 


LARS. 

And  spake :  "  I  judge  thee  not ;  I  cannot  know 

What  grievous  loss  or  strong  temptation  wrought ; 

But  if,  indeed,  to  good  and  peaceful  ways 

Thy  heart  inclines,  canst  thou  not  wrestle  with 

The  Adversary  ?    This  knowledge  of  thy  guilt 

Is  half-repentance  :  whole  would  make  thee  sound." 

"  And  then  —  and  then  " —  his  natural  voice  returned ; 

"  Then  —  pardon  ? "    "  Pardon,  now,  from  me  and  him, 

My  father,  —  for  I  know  his  perfect  heart,  — 

Thou  hast ;  but  couldst  thou  turn  thy  dreadful  strength 

That  so  it  lift,  and  change,  and  chasten  thee  ? " 

"  If  I  but  could  !  " —  he  cried,  and  bowed  again 

His  forehead.    "  Wait ! "  she  whispered,  left  him  there, 

And  sought  her  father. 

Now,  when  Ezra  heard 
All  this  repeated,  for  a  space  he  sat 
In  earnest  meditation.     "  Bid  him  come  !  " 
He  said,  at  last,  and  Ruth  brought  Lars  to  him. 

86 


LARS. 

Upon  the  doubting  and  the  suffering  face 

The  old  man  gazed  ;  then  "  Put  thy  bundle  by  !  " 

Came  from  his  lips  ;  "  thou  shalt  not  leave,  to-day. 

Thy  hands  have  done  me  hurt ;  if  thou  art  just, 

One  service  do  thyself,  in  following  me. 

Come  with  us  to  the  meeting  :  there  the  Lord 

Down  through  the  silence  of  fraternal  souls 

May  reach  His  hand.     We  cannot  guess  His  ways  ; 

Only  so  much  the  inward  Voice  declares." 

But  little  else  was  said  :  upon  them  lay 
The  shadow  of  an  unknown  past,  the  weight 
Of  present  trouble,  the  uncertainty 
Of  what  should  come  ;  yet  o'er  the  soul  of  Ruth 
Hung  something  happier  than  she  dared  to  feel, 
And  Lars,  in  silence,  with  submissive  feet. 
Followed,  as  one  who  in  a  land  of  mist 
Feels  one  side  warmer,  where  the  sun  must  be. 

87 


LARS. 

Then,  parted  ere  they  reached  the  separate  doors, 

Lars  went  with  Ezra :  Abner  Cloud,  within, 

Beheld  them  enter,  and  he  marvelled  much 

Such  things  could  be.     Straightway  the  highest  seat 

Took  Ezra,  where  the  low  partition-boards 

Sundered  the  men  and  women.     There  alone 

Sat  they  whom  most  the  Spirit  visited, 

And  spake  through  them,  and  gave  authority. 

Then  silence  fell ;  how  long,  Lars  could  not  know, 
Nor  Ruth,  for  each  was  in  a  trance  of  soul, 
Till  Ezra  rose.     His  words,  at  first,  were  few 
And  broken,  and  they  trembled  on  his  lips  ; 
But  soon  the  power  and  full  conviction  came, 
And  then,  as  with  Ezekiel's  trumpet-voice 
He  spake  :  "  Lo  !  many  vessels  hath  the  Lord 
Set  by  the  fount  of  Evil  in  our  hearts. 
Here  envy  and  false-witness  catch  the  green,  • 

88 


LARS. 

There  pride  the  purple,  lust  the  ruddy  stream  : 
But  into  anger  runs  the  natural  blood, 
And  flows  the  faster  as  't  is  tapped  the  more. 
Here  lies  the  source  :  the  conquest  here  begins, 
Then  meekness  comes,  good-will,  and  purity. 
Let  whoso  weigh,  when  his  offence  is  sore, 
The  Lord's  offences,  and  his  patience  mete, 
Though  myriads  less  in  measure,  by  the  Lord's  ! 
This  yoke  is'  easy,  if  in  love  ye  bear. 
For  none,  the  lowest,  rather  hates  than  loves  ; 
But  Love  is  shy,  and  Hate  delights  to  show 
A  brazen  forehead  ;  't  is  the  noblest  sign 
Of  courage,  and  the  rarest,  to  reveal 
The  tender  evidence  of  brotherhood. 
With  one  this  sin  is  born,  with  other,  that ; 
Who  shall  compare  them  ?  —  either  sin  is  dark, 
But  one  redeeming  Light  is  over  both. 
The  Evil  that  assails  resist  not  ye 

89- 


LARS. 

With  equal  evil !  —  else  ye  change  to  man 

The  Lord  within,  whom  ye  should  glorify 

By  words  that  prove  Him,  deeds  that  bless  like  Him ! 

What  spake  the  patient  and  the  holy  Christ  ? 

Unto  thy  brother  first  be  reconciled, 

Then  bring  thy  gift !  and  further :  Bless  ye  them 

That  curse  you,  and  do  good  to  them  that  hate 

And  persecute,  that  so  the  children  ye  may  be 

Of  Him,  the  Father.     Yea,  His  perfect  love 

Renewed  in  us,  and  of  our  struggles  born, 

Gives,  even  on  earth,  His  pure,  abiding  peace. 

Behold,  these  words  I  speak  are  nothing  new, 

But  they  are  burned  with  fire  upon  my  mind 

To  help  —  the  Lord  permit  that  they  may  save  !  " 

Therewith  he  laid  his  hat  aside,  and  all 
Beheld  the  purple  welt  across  his  brow, 
And  marvelled.  Thus  he  prayed :  "  Our  God  and  Lord 

.90 


LARS. 

And  Father,  unto  whom  our  secret  sins 

Lie  bare  and  scarlet,  turn  aside  from  them 

In  holy  pity,  search  the  tangled  heart 

And  breathe  Thy  life  upon  its  seeds  of  good  ! 

Thou  leavest  no  one  wholly  dark  :  Thou  giv'st 

The  hope  and  yearning  where  the  will  is  weak, 

And  unto  all  the  blessed  strength  of  love. 

So  give  to  him,  and  even  withhold  from  me 

Thy  gifts  designed,  that  he  receive  the  more : 

Give  love  that  pardons,  prayer  that  purifies, 

And  saintly  courage  that  can  suffer  wrong, 

For  these  beget  Thy  peace,  and  keep  Thee  near  ! " 

He  ceased  :  all  hearts  were  stirred  ;  and  suddenly 
Amid  the  younger  members  Lars  arose, 
Unconscious  of  the  tears  upon  his  face, 
And  scarcely  audible :  "  O,  brethren  here, 
He  prayed  for  my  sake,  for  my  sake  pray  ye  ! 


LARS. 

I  am  a  sinful  man  :  I  do  repent. 
I  see  the  truth,  but  in  my  heart  the  lamp 
Is  barely  lighted,  any  wind  may  quench. 
Bear  with  me  still,  be  helpful,  that  I  live !  " 
Then  all  not  so  much  wondered  but  they  felt 
The  man's  most  earnest  need  ;  and  many  a  voice 
Responsive  murmured :  "  Yea,  I  will !  "  and  some, 
Whose  brows  were  tombstones  over  passions  slain, 
When  meeting  broke  came  up  and  took  his  hand. 

The  three  walked  home  in  silence,  but  to  Lars 
The  mist  had  lifted,  and  around  him  fell 
A  bath  of  light ;  and  dimly  spread  before 
His  feet  the  sweetness  of  a  purer  world. 
When  Ezra,  that  diviner  virtue  spent 
Which  held  him  up,  grew  faint  npon  the  road, 
The  arm  of  Lars  became  a  strength  to  him  ; 
Yet  all  he  said,  before  the  evening  fell, 

92 


LARS. 

Was  :  "  Gird  thy  loins,  my  friend,  the  way  is  long 
And  wearisome  :  haste  not,  but  never  rest ! " 

"  I  will  not  close  mine  eyes,"  said  Lars  to  Ruth, 

And  laid  aside  the  book,  No  Cross,  No  Crown, 

She  gave  him  as  a  comfort  and  a  help  ; 

"  Till  thou  hast  heard  the  tale  I  have  to  tell. 

Thou  speakest  truth,  the  knowledge  of  my  sin 

Is  half-repentance,  yet  the  knowledge  burns 

Like  fire  in  ashes  till  it  be  confessed. 

Revoke  thy  pardon,  if  it  must  be  so, 

When  all  is  told :  yea,  speak  to  me  no  more, 

« 

But  I  must  speak  ! "    So  he  began,  and  spared 
No  circumstance  of  love,  and  hate,  and  crime, 
The  songs  and  dances  which  the  Friends  forbid, 
The  bloody  customs  and  the  cries  profane, 
Till  all  lay  bare  and  horrible.     And  Ruth 
Grew  pale  and  flushed  by  turns,  and  often  wept, 

93 


LARS. 

• 

And,  when  he  ceased,  was  silent.  "Now,  fare 
well  ! " 

He  would  have  said,  when  she  looked  up  and 
spake : 

"  Thy  words  have  shaken  me  :  we  read  such  tales, 

Nor  comprehend,  so  distant  and  obscure  : 

Thou  makest  manifest  the  living  truth. 

Save  thee,  I  never  knew  a  man  of  blood  : 

Thou  shouldst  be  wicked,  and  my  heart  declares 

Thy  gentleness  :  ah,  feeling  all  thy  sin, 

Can  I  condemn  thee,  nor  myself  condemn  ? 

Thy  burden,  thus,  is  laid  upon  me.     Pray 

* 

For  power  and  patience,  pray  for  victory  ! 
Then  falls  the  burden,  and  my  soul  is  glad." 

Lars  saw  what  he  had  done.     His  limbs  unstrung 
Gave  way,  and  softly  on  his  knees  he  sank, 
And  all  the  passion  of  his  nature  bore 

94 


LARS. 

His  yearning  upward,  till  in  faith  it  died. 

He  rose  at  last ;  his  face  was  calm  and  strong  : 

Ruth  smiled,  and  then  they  parted  for  the  night. 

Yet  Ezra's  words  were  true :  the  way  was  long 
And  wearisome.     The  better  will  was  there, 
But  not  the  trust  in  self;  for,  still  beside 
Those  pleasant  regions  opening  on  his  soul, 
Beat  the  unyielding  blood,  as  beats  afar 
The  vein  of  lightning  in  a  summer  cloud. 
And,  as  in  each  severe  community 
Of  interests  circumscribed,  where  all  is  known  t 
And  roughly  handled  till  opinions  join, 
So,  here,  were  those  who  kindly  turned  to  Lars, 
And  those  who  doubted,  or  declared  him  false. 
In  this  probation,  Ruth  became  his  stay  : 
She  knew  and  turned  not,  knew  and  yet  believed 
As  did  no  other,  —  hoping  more  than  he. 

95 


LARS. 

Meanwhile  the  summer  and  the  harvest  came. 

One  afternoon,  within  the  orchard,  Ruth 

Gathered  the  first  sweet  apples  of  the  year, 

That  give  such  pleasure  by  their  painted  cheeks 

And  healthy  odor.     Little  breezes  shook 

The  interwoven  flecks  of  sun  and  shade, 

O'er  all  the  tufted  carpet  of  the  grass  ; 

The  birds  sang  near  her,  and  beyond  the  hedge, 

Where  stretched  the  oat-field  broad  along  the  hill, 

Were  harvest  voices,  broken  wafts  of  sound, 

That  brought  no  words.     Then  something  made  her 

start ; 

She  gazed  and  waited  :  o'er  the  thorny  wall 
Lars  leaped,  or  seemed  to  fly,  and  ran  to  her, 
His  features  troubled  and  his  hands  outstretched. 
"  O  Ruth  ! "  he  cried  ;  "  I  pray  thee,  take  my  hands ! 
This  power  I  have,  at  last :  I  can  refrain 
Till  help  be  sought,  the  help  that  dwells  in  thee." 

96 


LARS. 

She  took  his  hands,  and  soon,  in  kissing  palms, 
His  violent  pulses  learned  the  beat  of  hers. 
Sweet  warmth  o'erspread  his  frame ;  he  saw  her  face, 
And  how  the  cheeks  flushed  and  the  eyelids  fell 
Beneath  his  gaze,  and  all  at  once  the  truth 
Beat  fast  and  eager  in  the  palms  of  both. 
"  Take  not  away,"  he  cried  ;  "  now,  nevermore, 
Thy  hands  !     O  Ruth,  my  saving  angel,  give 
Thyself  to  me,  and  let  our  lives  be  one  ! 
I  cannot  spare  thee  :  heart  and  soul  alike 
Have  need  of  thee,  and  seem  to  cry  aloud : 
'  Lo  !  faith  and  love  and  holiness  are  one  ! '  " 
But  who  shall  paint  the  beauty  of  her  eyes 
When  they  unveiled,  and  softly  clung  to  his, 
The  while  she  spake  :  "  I  think  I  loved  thee  first 
When  first  I  saw  thee,  and  I  give  my  life, 
In  perfect  trust  and  faith,  to  these  thy  hands." 
"  The  fight  is  fought,"  said  Lars  ;  "  so  blest  by  thee, 
4  97 


LARS. 

The  strength  of  darkness  and  temptation  dies. 
If  now  the  Ifght  must  reach  me  through  thy  soul, 
It  is  not  clouded  :  clearer  were  too  keen, 
Too  awful  in  its  purity,  for  man." 

So  into  joy  revolved  the  doubtful  year, 
And,  ere  it  closed,  the  gentle  fold  of  Friends 
Sheltered  another  member,  even  Lars. 
The  evidence  of  faith,  in  words  and  ways, 
Could  none  reject,  and  thus  opinions  joined, 
And  that  grew  natural  which  was  marvel  first. 
Then  followed  soon,  since  Ezra  willed  it  so, 
Seeing  that  twofold  duty  guided  Ruth, 
The  second  marvel,  bitterness  to  one 
Who  blamed  his  haste,  nor  felt  how  free  is  fate, 
Whose  sweeter  name  is  love,  of  will  or  plan. 
And  all  the  country-side  assembled  there, 
One  winter  Sabbath,  when  in  snow  and  sky 

93 


LARS. 

The  colors  of  transfiguration  shone, 
Within  the  meeting-house.     There  Ruth  and  Lars 
Together  sat  upon  the  women's  side, 
And  when  the  peace  was  perfect,  they  arose. 
He  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  spake  these  words, 
As  ordered  :  "  In  the  presence  of  the  Lord 
And  this  assembly,  by  the  hand  I  take 
Ruth  Mendenhall,  and  promise  unto  her, 
Divine  assistance  blessing  me,  to  be 
A  loving  and  a  faithful  husband,  even 
Till  Death  shall  separate  us."     Then  spake  Ruth 
The  same  sweet  words  ;  and  so  the  twain  were  one. 

99 


BOOK    III. 


BOOK     III. 

— • — 

LOVE'S  history,  as  Life's,  is  ended  not 
By  marriage :  though  the  ignorant  Paradise 
May  then  be  lost,  the  world  of  knowledge  waits, 
With  ample  opportunities,  to  mould 
Young  Eve  and  Adam  into  wife  and  man. 
Some  grace  of  sentiment  expires,  yet  here 
The  nobler  poetry  of  life  begins : 
The  squire  is  knight,  the  novice  takes  the  vow, 
Old  service  falls,  new  powers  and  duties  join, 
And  that  high  Beauty,  which  is  crown  of  all, 
No  more  a  lightsome  maid,  with  tresses  free 
And  mantle  floating  from  the  bosom  bare, 
Confronts  us  now  like  holy  Barbara, 

103 


LARS. 

As  Palma  drew,  or  she,  Our  Lady,  born 
On  Milos,  type  of  perfect  growth  and  pure. 

So  Lars  and  Ruth  beside  each  other  learned 
What  neither,  left  unwedded,  could  have  won  : 
He  how  reliant  and  how  fond  the  heart 
Whose  love  seemed  almost  pity,  she  how  firm 
And  masterful  the  nature,  which  appealed 
There  for  support  where  hers  had  felt  no  strain  ; 
And  both,  how  solemn,  sweet,  and  wonderful 
The  life  of  man.     Their  life,  indeed,  was  still, 
Too  still  for  aught  save  blessing,  for  a  time. 
All  things  were  ordered  :  plenty  in  the  house 
And  fruitfulness  of  field  and  meadow  made 
Light  labor,  and  the  people  came  and  went, 
According  to  their  old  and  friendly  ways. 
Within  the  meeting-house  upon  the  hill 
Now  Ezra  oftener  spake,  and  sometimes  Lars, 

104 


LARS. 

Fain  to  obey  the  spirit  which  impelled  ; 
And  what  of  customed  phrase  they  missed,  or  tone, 
Unlike  their  measured  chant,  did  he  supply 
With  words  that  bore  a  message  to  the  heart. 

All  this  might  seem  sufficient ;  yet  to  Ruth 
Was  still  unrest,  where,  unto  shallow  eyes 
Dwelt  peace  :  she  felt  the  uneasy  soul  of  Lars, 
And  waited,  till  his  own  good  time  should  come. 
Yea,  verily,  he  was  happy  :  could  she  doubt 
The  signs  in  him  that  spake  the  same  in  her  ? 
Yea,  he  was  happy  :  every  day  proclaimed 
The  freshness  of  a  blessing  rebestowed, 
The  conscious  gift,  unworn  by  time  or  use, 
And  this  was  sweet  to  see  ;  yet  he  betrayed 
That  wavering  will,  the  opposite  of  faith, 
Which  comes  of  duty  known  and  not  performed. 
It  seemed  his  lines  of  life  were  cast  in  peace, 

105 


LARS. 

In  green  Hockessin,  where  Lars  Thorstensen, 
A  sound  that  echoed  of  Norwegian  shores, 
Became  Friend  Thurston  :  all  things  there  conspired 
To  blot  the  Past,  but  in  his  soul  it  lived. 

Then,  as  his   thoughts  went  back,   his  tongue  re 
vealed  : 

He  spake  of  winding  fiord  and  windy  fell, 
Of  Ulvik's  cottages  and  Craven's  lake, 
And  all  the  moving  features  of  a  life 
So  strange  to  Ruth  ;  till  she  made  bold  to  break, 
Through  playful  chiding,  what  was  grave  surmise : 
"  I  fear  me,  Lars,  that  thou  art  sick  for  home. 
Thy  love  is  with  me  and  thy  memory  far : 
Thou  seest  with  half  thy  sight ;  and  in  thy  dreams 
I  hear  thee  murmer  in  thine  other  tongue, 
So  soft  and  strange,  so  good,  I  cannot  doubt, 
If  I  but  knew  it ;  but  thy  dreams  are  safe." 

1 06 


LARS. 


"  Nay,  wife,"  he  said  ;  "  misunderstand  them  not ! 

For  dreams  hold  up  before  the  soul,  released 

From  worldly  business,  pictures  of  itself, . 

And  in  confused  and  mystic  parables 

Foreshadow  what  it  seeks.     I  do  confess 

I  love  Old  Norway's  bleak,  tremendous  hills, 

Where  winter  sits,  and  sees  the  summer  burn 

In  valleys  deeper  than  yon  cloud  is  high : 

I  love  the  ocean-arms  that  gleam  and  foam 

So  far  Within  the  bosom  of  the  land  : 

It  is  not  that.     I  do  confess  to  thee 

I  love  the  frank,  brave  habit  of  the  folk, 

The  hearts  unspoiled,  though  fed  from  ruder  times 

And  filled  with  angry  blood  :  I  love  the  tales 

That  taught,  the  ancient  songs  that  cradled  me, 

The  tongue  my  mother  spake,  unto  the  Lord 

As  sweet  as  thine  upon  the  lips  of  prayer : 

It  is  not  that." 

107 


. 

LARS. 

Then  he  perused  her  face 
Full  earnestly,  and  drew  a  deeper  breath. 
"  My  wife,  my  Ruth,"  his  words  came,  low  yet  firm  ; 
"Thou  knowest  of  one  who  brake  a  precious  box 
Of  ointment,  and  refreshed  the  weary  feet 
Of  Him  who  pardoned  her.     But,  had  He  given 
Not  pardon  only,  had  He  stretched  His  arm 
And  plucked,  as  from  the  vine  of  Paradise, 
All  blessing  and  all  bounty  and  all  good, 
What  then  were  she  that  idly  took  and  used  ? " 

"  I  read  thy  meaning,"  answered  Ruth  ;  "  speak  on  !  " 

"  Am  I  not  he  that  idly  uses  ?     Are  there  not 
Here  many  reapers,  there  a  wasting  field  ? 
In  them  the  fierce  inheritance  of  blood 
I  overcame,  is  mighty  still  to  slay ; 
For  ancient  custom  is  a  ring  of  steel 

108 


LARS. 

They  know  not  how  to  snap.     By  day  and  night 
A  powerful  spirit  calls  me  :  '  Go  to  them  ! ' 
What  should  mine  answer  to  the  spirit  be  ?" 

If  there  were  aught  of  struggle  in  her  heart, 
She  hid  the  signs.  '  A  little  pale  her  cheek, 
But  with  un trembling  eyelids  she  upraised 
Her  face  to  his,  and  took  him  by  the  hands  : 
"  Thy  Lord  is  mine  :  what  should  I  say  to  thee, 
Except  what  she,  whose  name  I  bear,  ere  yet 
She  went  to  glean  in  Bethlehem's  harvest-field, 
Said  to  Naomi :  '  Nay,  entreat  me  not 
To  leave  thee,  or  return  from  following  thee '  ? 
Should  not  thy  people,  then,  be  mine,  as  mine 
Are  made  thine  own  ?     I  will  not  fail :  He  calls 
On  both  of  us  who  gives  thee  this  command." 

So  Ruth,  erelong,  detached  her  coming  life 

10) 


LARS. 

From  all  its  past,  until  each  well-known  thing 

No  more  was  sure  or  needful,  to  her  mind. 

Her  neighbors,  even,  seemed  to  come  and  go 

Like  half-existences  ;  her  days,  as  well, 

Were  clad  with  dream  ;  she  understood  the  words, 

"I  but  sojourn  among  you  for  a  time," 

And,  from  the  duties  which  were  habits,  turned 

To  brood  o'er  those  unknown,  awaiting  her. 

But  Ezra,  when  he  heard  their  purpose,  spake  : 
"  Because  this  thing  is  very  hard  to  me, 
I  dare  not  preach  against  it ;  but  I  doubt, 
Being  acquainted  with  the  heart  of  man. 
'T  is  one  thing,  Lars,  to  build  thy  virtue  here, 
Where  others  urge  the  better  will :  but  there, 
Alone,  persuaded,  ridiculed,  assailed, 
Couldst  thou  resist,  yet  love  them  ?     Nay,  I  know 
Thy  power  and  conscience :  Try  them  not  too  soon ! 

no 


LARS. 

Is  all  I  ask.    See,  I  am  full  of  years, 
And  thou,  my  daughter,  thou,  indeed  a  son, 
Stay  me  on  either  side :  wait  but  awhile 
And  ye  are  free,  yea,  seasoned  as  twin  beams 
Of  soundest  oak,  for  lintels  of  His  door." 

They  patiently  obeyed.     The  years  went  by, 
Until  five  winters  blanched  to  perfect  snow 
The  old  man's  hair.     Then,  when  the  gusts  of  March 
Shook  into  life  the  torpid  souls  of  trees, 
His  body  craved  its  rest.     He  summoned  Lars, 
And  meekly  said  :  "  I  pray  thee,  pardon  me 
That  I  have  lived  so  long :  I  meant  it  not. 
Now  I  am  certain  that  the  end  is  near ; 
And,  noting  as  I  must,  the  deep  concern 
On  both  your  minds,  I  fain  would  aid  that  work, 
The  which,  I  see,   ye  mean  to  undertake." 
Then  counsel  wise  he  gave :  it  seemed  his  mind, 

in 


LARS. 

Those  five  long  years,  had  pondered  all  things  well, 

Computed  every  chance  and  sought  the  best, 

Foresaw  and  weighed,  foreboded  and  prepared, 

Until  the  call  was  made  his  legacy. 

At  last  he  said :   "  My  sight  is  verily  clear, 

And  I  behold  your  duty  as  yourselves  " ; 

Then  spake  farewell  with  pleasant  voice,  and  died. 

When  summer  came,  upon  an  English  ship 
Sailed  Lars  and  Ruth  between  the  rich  green  shores 
That  widened,  sinking,  till  the  land  was  drowned, 
And  they  were  blown  on  rolling  fields  of  blue. 
Blown  backward  more  than  on  ;  and  evil  eyes 
Of  sailors' on  their  sober  Quaker  garb 
Began  to  turn.     "  Our  Jonah  ! "  was  the  cry, 
When  Lars  was  seen  upon  the  quarter-deck, 
And  one,  a  ruffian  from  the  Dorset  moors, 
Became  so  impudent  and  foul  of  tongue 

112 


LARS. 

That  Ruth  was  frightened,  would  have  fled  below, 
But  Lars  prevented  her.     Three  strides  he  made, 
Then  by  the  waistband  and  the  neck  he  seized 
That  brutish  boor,  and  o'er  the  bulwarks  held, 
Above  the  brine,  like  death  for  very  fear. 
"  Now,  promise  me  to  keep  a  decent  tongue ! " 
Cried  Lars  ;  and  he :  "I  promise  anything, 
But  let  me  not  be  lost ! "     Thenceforth  respect 
Those   sailors   showed  to  strength,  though   clad  in 

peace. 

"  Now  see  I  wherefore  thou  wert  made  so  strong," 
Ruth  said  to  him,  and  inwardly  rejoiced  ; 
And  soon  the  mists  and  baffling  breezes  fled 
Before  a  wind  that  down  from  Labrador 
Blew  like  a  will  unwearied,  night  and  day, 
Across  the  desert  of  the  middle  sea. 
Out  of  the  waters  rose  the  Scilly  Isles, 
Afar  and  low,  and  then  the  Cornish  hills, 


LARS. 

And,  floating  up  by  many  a  valley-mouth 
Of  Devon  streams,  they  came  to  Bristol  town. 

Awhile  among  their  brethren  they  abode, 
For  thus  had  Ezra  ordered.     There  were  some 
Concerned  in  trade,  whose  vessels  to  and  fro 
From  Hull  across  the  German  Ocean  sailed, 
And  touched  Norwegian  ports  ;  and  Lars  in  those, 
The  old  man  said,  must  find  his  nearest  stay. 
But  soon  it  chanced  that  with  a  vessel  came 
A  man  of  Arendal,  in  Norway  land, 
Known  to  the  Friends  as  fair  in  word  and  deed, 
And  well-inclined ;  and  Gustaf  Hansen  named. 
Norse  tongue   makes   easy  friendship :   Lars   and 

he 

Became  as  brothers  in  a  little  while, 
And,  when  his  worldly  charge  was  ordered,  they 
Together  all  embarked  for  Arendal. 

114 


LARS. 

Calm  autumn  skies  were  o'er  them,  and  the  sea 
Swelled  in  unwrinkled  glass  :  they  scarcely  knew 
How  sped  the  voyage,  until  Lindesnaes, 
At  first  a  cloud,  stood  fast,  and  spread  away 
To  flanking  capes,  with  gaps  of  blue  between  ; 
Then  rose,  and  showed,  above  the  precipice, 
The  firs  of  Norway  climbing  thick  and  high 
To  wilder  crests  that  made  the  inland  gloom. 
In  front,  the  sprinkled  skerries  pierced  the  wave ; 
Between  them,  slowly  glided  in  and  out 
The  tawny  sails,  while  houses  low  and  red 
Hailed  their  return,  or  sent  them  fearless  forth. 
"  This  is  thy  Norway,  Lars  ;  it  like  looks  thee  "  ; 
Said  Ruth :  "  it  has  a  forehead  firm  and  bold  ; 
It  sets  its  foot  below  the  reach  of  storms, 
Yet  hides,  methinks,  in  each  retiring  vale, 
Delight  in  toil,  contentment,  love,  and  peace,  — 
My  land,  my  husband  !  let  me  love  it,  too  ! " 

"5 


LARS 

So  on  their  softened  hearts  the  sun  went  down 
And  rose  once  more ;  then  Gustaf  Hansen  came 
Beside  them,  pilot  of  familiar  shores, 
And  said :  "  To  starboard,  yonder,  lies  the  isle 
As  I  described  it ;  here,  upon  our  lee 
Is  mainland  all,  and  there  the  Nid  comes  down, 
The  timber-shouldering  Nid,  from  endless  woods 
And  wilder  valleys  where  scant  grain  is  grown. 
Now  bend  your  glances  as  my  finger  points,  — 
Lo!  there  it  is,  the  spire  of  Arendal ! 
Our  little  town,  as  homely,  kind,  and  dear, 
As  some  old  dame,  round  whom  her  children's  babes 
Cling  to  be  petted,  comforted,  and  spoiled. 
And  here,  my  friends,  shall  ye  with  me  abide 
And  with  my  Thora,  till  the  winter  melts, 
Which  there,  behind  yon  wall  of  slaty  cloud, 
Possesses  fell  and  upland  even  now. 
Too  strange  is  Ruth  to  dare  those  snowy  wastes, 

116 


LARS. 

Nor  is  there  need  :  .good  Thora's  heart  will  turn 
To  her,  I  know,  as  mine  hath  turned  to  Lars ; 
And  Arendal  is  warmly-harbored,  snug, 
And  not  unfriendly  in  the  time  of  storms." 

They  could  not  say  him  nay.     The  anchor  dropped 
Before  the  town,  and  Thora,  from  the  land, 
Tall,  broad  of  breast,  with  ever-rosy  cheeks 
O'er  which  the  breezes  tossed  her  locks  of  gray, 
Stretched  arms  of  welcome  ;  and  the  ancient  house, 
With  massive  beams  and  ample  chimney-place, 
As  in  Hockessin,  made  immediate  home. 
To  Ruth,  how  sweetly  the  geraniums  peeped 
With  scarlet  eyes  across  the  window-sill!- 
How  orderly  the  snowy  curtains  shone ! 
Familiar,  too,  the  plainness  and  the  use 
In  all  things  ;  presses  of  the  dusky  oak, 
Fair  linen,  store  of  healing  herbs  that  smelled 

117 


LARS. 

Of  charity,  and  signs  of  forethought  wise 
That  justified  the  plenty  of  the  house. 
It  was  as  Gustaf  said  :  good  Thora  loved 

The  foreign  woman,  taught  and  counselled  her, 

% 

Taking  to  heart  their  purpose,  so  that  she 
Unconsciously  received  the  truth  of  Friends. 
And  Gustaf  also,  through  the  soul  of  Lars, 
To  him  laid  bare,  and  all  that  blessing  clear 
Obedience  brings  when  speaks  the  inward  voice, 
Believed  erelong ;  then  others  come  to  hear, 
Till  there,  in  Arendal,  a  brotherhood 
Of  earnest  seekers  for  the  light  grew  up, 
Before  the  hasty  spring  of  northern  lands 
Sowed  buttercups  along  the  banks  of  Nid. 

But  when  they  burst,  those  precious  common  flowers 
That  not  a  meadow  of  the  world  can  spare, 
Said  Lars,  one  Sabbath,  to  the  little  flock : 

nS 


LARS. 

"  Here  we  have  tarried  long,  and  it  is  well ; 
But  now  we  go,  and  it  is  also  well. 
This  much  is  blessing  added  unto  those 
That  went  before  ;  hence  louder  rings  the  call 
Which  brought  me  hither,  and  I  must  obey. 
My  path  is  clear,  my  duty  strange  and  stern, 
The  end  thereof  uncertain  ;  it  may  be, 
My  brethren,  I  shall  never  see  ye  more. 
Your  love  upholds  me,  and  your  faith  confirms 
My  purpose :  bless  me  now,  and  bid  farewell ! " 
Then  Gustaf  wept,  and  said  :  "  Our  brother,  go  ! 
Yet  thou  art  with  us,  and  we  walk  with  thee 
In  this  or  yonder  world,  as  bids  the  Lord." 

Their  needful  preparations  soon  were  made : 
Two  strong  dun  horses  of  the  mountain  breed, 
With  hoofs  like  claws,  that  clung  where'er  they  touched, 
Unholstered  saddles,  leathern  wallets  filled 

119 


LARS. 

With  scrip  for  houseless  ways,  close-woven  cloaks 
To  comfort  them  upon  the  cloudy  fells, 
And  precious  books,  by  Penn  and  Barclay  writ 
And  Woolman,  —  these  made  up  their  little  store. 
The  few  and  faithful  went  with  them  a  space 
Along  the  banks  of  Nid  ;  there  first  besought 
All  power  and  light,  and  furtherance  for  the  task 
Awaiting  Lars  :  they  knew  not  what  it  was, 
But  what  it  was,  they  knew,  was  good :  then  all 
Gave  hands  and  said  farewell,  and  Lars  and  Ruth 
Rode  boldly  onward,  facing  the  dark  land. 

Across  the  lonely  hills  of  Tellemark, 
That  smiled  in  sunshine,  went  their  earnest  way, 
And  by  the  sparkling  waters  of  the  Tind  ; 
Then,  leaving  on  the  left  that  chasm  of  dread 
Where,  under  Gousta's  base,  the  Rinkan  falls 
In  winnowing  blossoms,  tendrilled  vines  of  foam, 

120 


LARS. 

And  bursting  rockets  of  the  starry  spray, 

They  rode  through  forests  into  Hemsedal. 

The  people  marvelled  at  their  strange  attire, 

But  all  were  kind  ;  and  Ruth,  to  whom  their  speech 

Was  now  familiar,  found  such  ordered  toil, 

Such  easy  gladness,  temperate  desire, 

That  many  doubts  were  laid  :  the  spirit  slept, 

She  thought,  and  waited  but  a  heartsome  call. 

Then  ever  higher  stood  the  stormy  fells 

Against  uncertain  skies,  as  they  advanced ; 

And  ever  grander  plunged  the  roaring  snow 

Of  mighty  waterfalls  from  cliff  to  vale  : 

The  firs  were  mantled  in  a  blacker  shade, 

The  rocks  were  rusted  as  with  ancient  blood, 

And  winds  that  shouted  or  in  wailing  died 

Harried  the  upper  fields,  in  endless  wrath 

At  finding  there  no  man. 

The  soul  of  Lars 

121 


, 

LARS. 

Expanded  with  a  solemn  joy  ;  but  Ruth, 

Awed  by  the  gloom  and  wildness  of  the  land, 

Rode  close,  and  often  touched  her  husband's  arm  ; 

And  when  within  its  hollow  dell  they  saw 

The  church  of  Borgund  like  a  dragon  sit, 

Its  roof  all  horns,  its  pitchy  shingles  laid 

Like  serpent  scales,  its  door  a  dusky  throat, 

She  whispered  :   "  This  the  ancients  must  have  left 

From  their  abolished  worship  :  is  it  so  ? 

This  is  no  temple  of  the  living  Lord, 

That  makes  me  fear  it  like  an  evil  thing !  " 

"  Consider  not  its  outward  form,"  said  Lars, 

"  Or  mine  may  vex  thee,  for  my  sin  outgrown. 

I  would  the  dragon  in  the  people's  blood 

As  harmless  were ! "    So  downward,  side  by  side, 

From  ridges  of  the  windy  Fille  Fell 

Unto  the  borders  of  the  tamer  brine, 

The  sea-arm  bathing  Frithiof  s  home,  they  rode  ; 

122 


LARS. 

Then  two  days  floated  past  those  granite  walls 
That  mock  the  boatman  with  a  softer  song, 
And  took  the  land  again,  where  shadow  broods, 
And  frequent  thunder  of  the  tumbling  rocks 
Is  heard  the  summer  through,  in  Nserodal. 
To  Ruth  the  gorge  seemed  awful,  and  the  path 
That  from  its  bowels  toiled  to  meet  the  sun, 
Was  hard  as  any  made  for  Christian's  feet, 
In  Bunyan's  dream  ;  but  Lars  with  lighter  step 
The  giddy  zigzag  scaled,  for  now,  beyond, 
Not  distant,  lay  the  Vossevangen  vale, 
And  all  the  cheerful  neighborhood  of  home. 

At  last,  one  quiet  afternoon,  they  crossed 
The  fell  from  Graven,  and  below  them  saw 
The  roofs  of  Ulvik  and  the  orchard-trees 
Shining  in  richer  colors,  and  the  fiord, 
A  dim  blue  gloom  between  Hardanger  heights,— 

123 


LARS. 


The  strife  and  peace,  the  plenty  and  the  need ; 
And  both  were  silent  for  a  little  space. 
Then  Ruth :  "  I  had  not  thought  thy  home  so  fair, 
Nor  yet  so  stern  and  overhung  with  dread. 
It  seems  to  draw  me  as  a  danger  draws, 
Yet  gives  me  courage  :  is  it  well  with  thee  ?  " 
"  That  which  I  would,  I  know,"  responded  Lars, 
"  Not  that  which  may  be  :  ask  no  more,  I  pray  ! " 
Then  downward,  weary,  strangely  moved,  yet  glad, 
They  went,  a  wonder  to  the  Ulvik  folk, 
Till  some  detected,  'neath  his  shadowy  brim, 
The  eyes  of  Lars  ;  and  he  was  scarcely  housed 
With  his  astonished  kindred,  ere  the  news 
Spread  from  the  fountain,  ran  along  the  shore. 
For  all  believed  him  dead  :  in  truth,  the  dead 
Could  not  have  risen  in  stranger  guise  than  he, 
Who  spake  as  one  they  knew  and  did  not  know, 
Who  seemed  another,  yet  must  be  the  same. 


124 


LARS. 

His  folk  were  kind :  they  owned  the  right  of  blood, 
Nor  would  disgrace  it,  though  a  half-disgrace 
Lars  seemed  to  bring ;  but  in  her  strange,  sweet  self 
Ruth  brought  a  pleasure  which  erelong  was  love. 
Her  gentle  voice,  her  patient,  winning  ways, 
Pure  thought  and  ignorance  of  evil  things 
That  on  her  wedlock  left  a  virgin  bloom, 
Set  her  above  them,  yet  her  nature  dwelt 
In  lowliness  :  sister  and  saint  she  seemed. 

Soon  Thorsten,  brother  of  the  slaughtered  Per, 
Alike  a  stalwart  fisher  of  the  fiord, 
Heard  who  had  come,  and  published  unto  all 
The  debt  of  blood  he  meant  to  claim  of  Lars. 
"  The  coward,  only,  comes  as  man  of  peace, 
To  shirk  such  payment !  "  were  his  bitter  words. 
And  they  were  carried  unto  Lars :  but  he 
Spake  firmly :  "  Well  I  knew  what  he  would  claim  : 

125 


LARS. 

The  coward,  knowing,  comes  not."     Nothing  more  ; 

Nor  could  they  guess  the  purpose  of  his  mind. 

In  little  Ulvik  all  the  people  learned 

What  words  had  passed,  and  there  were  friends  of  both ; 

But  Lars  kept  silent,  walked  the  ways  unarmed, 

And  preached  the  pardon  of  an  utmost  wrong. 

Now  Thorsten  saw  in  this  but  some  device 

To  try  his  own  forbearance :  his  revenge 

Grew  hungry  for  an  answering  enmity, 

And  weary  of  its  shame  ;  and  so,  at  last, 

He  sent  this  message  :  "  If  Lars  Thorstensen 

Deny  not  blood  he  spilled,  and  guilt  thereof, 

Then  let  him  meet  me  by  the  Graven  lake,"  — 

On  such  a  day. 

When  came  the  message,  Lars 
Spake  thus  to  all  his  kindred  :  "  I  will  go : 
I  do  deny  not  my  blood-guiltiness. 
This  thing  hath  rested  on  my  soul  for  years, 

126 


« 

LARS. 

And  must  be  met."     Then  unto  Ruth  he  turned : 

"  I  go  alone  :  abide  thou  with  our  kin." 

But  she  arose  and  answered :  "  Nay,  I  go  ! 

Forbid  me  not,  or  I  must  disobey, 

Which  were  a  cross.     I  give  thee  to  the  Lord, 

His  helpless  instrument,  to  break  or  save  ; 

Think  not  my  weakness  shall  confuse  thy  will !  " 

Lars  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head,  and  all 

Were  strangely  melted,  though  he  spake  no  more, 

Nor  then,  nor  on  the  way  to  Graven  lake. 

Lo  !  there  were  many  gathered,  kin  of  both, 
Or  friends,  or  folk  acquainted  with  the  tale, 
And  curious  for  its  end.     The  summer  sky 
Was  beautiful  above  them,  and  the  trees 
Stood  happy,  stretching  forth  forgiving  arms  ; 
Yet  sultry  thunder  in  the  hearts  of  men 
Brooded,  the  menace  of  a  rain  of  blood. 

127 


LARS. 

Lars  paused  not  when  he  came.     He  saw  the  face 
Of  Thorsten,  ruddy,  golden-haired  like  Per's, 
Amid  the  throng,  and  straightway  went  to  him 
And  spake  :  "  I  come,  as  thou  invitest  me. 
My  brother,  I  have  shed  thy  brother's  blood ; 
What  wouldst  thou  I  should  do  thee,  to  atone  ? " 

"  Give  yours ! "  cried  Thorsten,  stepping  back  a  pace. 

"  That  murderous  law  we  took  from  heathen  sires," 
Said  Lars,  "  is  guilt  upon  a  Christian  land. 
I  do  abjure  it.     Wilt  thou  have  my  blood, 
Nor  less,  I  dare  not  lift  a  hand  for  thine." 

"  You  came  not,  then,  to  fight,  though  branded  here 
A  coward  ? " 

"  Nay,  nor  ever,"  answered  Lars  ; 
"  But,  were  I  coward,  could  I  calmly  bear 

128 


LARS. 

Thy    words  ? "    Then    Thorkil,   friend   of  Thorsten, 

cried 

"  These  people,  in  their  garments,  I  have  heard, 
Put  on  their  peace  ;  or  else  some  magic  dwells 
In  shape  of  hat  or  color  of  the  coat, 
To  make  them  harmless  as  a  browsing  hare. 
That  Lars  we  knew  had  danger  in  his  eyes ; 
But  this  one,  —  why,  uncover,  let  us  see  ! " 
Therewith  struck  off  the  hat.     And  others  there 
Fell  upon  Lars,  and  tore  away  his  coat, 
Nor  ceased  the  outrage  until  they  had  made 
His  body  bare  to  where  the  leathern  belt 
Is  clasped  between  the  breast-bone  and  the  hip. 

Around  his  waist  they  buckled  then  a  belt, 
And  brought  a  knife,  and  thrust  it  in  his  hand. 
The  open  fingers  would  not  hold  :  the  knife 
Fell  from  them,  struck,  and  quivered  in  the  sod. 

129 


LARS. 

Thorsten,  apart,  had  also  bared  his  breast, 

And  waited,  beautiful  in  rosy  life. 

Then  Thorkil  and  another  drew  the  twain 

Together,  hooked  the  belts  of  each,  and  strove 

Once  more  to  arm  the  passive  hand  of  Lars : 

In  vain :  his  open  ringers  would  not  hold 

The  knife,  which  fell  and  quivered  in  the  sod. 

He  looked  in  Thorsten's  eyes  ;  great  sorrow  fell 

Upon  him,  and  a  tender  human  love. 

"  I  did  not  this,"  he  said  ;  "nor  will  resist. 

If  thou  art  minded  so,  then  strike  me  dead : 

But  thou  art  sacred,  for  the  blood  I  spilled 

Is  in  thy  veins,  my  brother :  yea,  all  blood 

Of  all  men  sacred  is  in  thee."    His  arms 

Hung  at  his  side :  he  did  not  shrink  or  sway : 

His  flesh  touched  Thorsten's  where  the  belts  were 

joined, 

And  felt  its  warmth.     Then  twice  did  Thorsten  lift 

130 


LARS. 

His  armed  hand,  and  twice  he  let  it  sink : 
An  anguish  came  upon  his  face :  he  groaned, 
And  all  that  heard  him  marvelled  at  the  words : 
"  Have  pity  on  me  ;  turn  away  thine  eyes : 
I  cannot  slay  thee  while  they  look  on  me ! " 

"  If  I  could  end  this  bloody  custom  so, 

In  all  the  land,  nor  plant  a  late  remorse 

For  what  is  here  thy  justice,"  answered  Lars, 

"  I  could  not  say  thee  nay.     Yet,  if  the  deed 

Be  good,  thou  shouldst  have  courage  for  the  deed ! " 

Once  more  looked  Thorsten  in  those  loving  eyes, 

And  shrank,  and  shuddered,  and  grew  deadly  pale, 

Till,  with  a  gasp  for  breath,  as  one  who  drowns 

Draws,  when  he  dips  again  above  the  wave, 

He  loosed  the  clutching  belts,  and  sat  him  down 

And  hid  his  face  :  they  heard  him  only  say  : 

"  'T  were  well  that  I  should  die,  for  very  shame  ! " 


LARS. 

Lars  heard,  and  spake  to  all:  "  The  shame  is  mine, 
Whose  coward  heart  betrayed  me  unto  guilt. 
I  slew  my  brother  Per,  nor  sought  his  blood  : 
Thou,  Thorsten,  wilt  not  mine ;  I  read  thy  heart. 
But  ye,  who  trample  on  the  soul  of  man 
In  still  demanding  he  shall  ne'er  outgrow 
The  savage  in  his  veins,  through  faith  in  Good, 
Who  Thorsten  rule,  even  as  ye  ruled  myself,  — 
I  call  ye  to  repent !     That  God  we  left, 
White  Balder,  were  more  merciful  than  this  : 
If  one,  henceforward,  cast  on  Thorsten  shame, 
The  Lord  shall  smite  him  when  the  judgment  comes  !  " 

Never  before,  such  words  in  such  a  place 
Were  preached  by  such  apostle.     Bared,  as  though 
For  runes  of  death,  while  red  Berserker  rage 
Kindled  in  some,  in  others  smouldered  out, 
He  raised  his  hand  and  pointed  to  the  sky  : 

132 


LARS. 

Far  off,  behind  the  silent  fells,  there  rolled 

A  sudden  thunder.     Ruth,  who  all  the  while 

Moved  not  nor  spake,  stood  forth,  and  o'er  her  face 

There  came  the  glory  of  an  opening  heaven. 

Now  that  she  knew  the  habit  of  the  folk, 

She  spake  not ;  but  she  clothed  the  form  of  Lars 

In  silence,  and  the  women,  weeping,  helped. 

Then  Thorsten  rose,  and  seeing  her,  he  said  : 

"  Thou  art  his  wife  ;  they  tell  me  thou  art  good. 

I  am  no  bloodier  than  thy  husband  was 

Before  he  knew  thee :  hast  thou  aught  to  say  ?  " 

She  took  his  hand  and  spake,  as  one  inspired : 

"  Thou  couldst  not  make  thyself  a  man  of  blood  ! 

This  is  thy  seed  of  blessing :  let  it  grow  ! 

Gladness  of  heart,  and  peace,  and  honored  name 

Shall  come  to  thee :  the  unrighteous,  cruel  law 

Is  broken  by  thy  hands,  no  less  than  his 

Who  loves  thee,  and  would  sooner  die  than  harm  !  " 


LARS. 

"  They  speak  the  truth, "  said  Thorsten ;  "  thou  art 

good, 

And  it  were  surely  bitter  grief  to  thee 
If  I  had  slain  him.     Go  !  his  blood  is  safe 
From  hands  of  mine. " 

His  words  the  most  approved  ; 
Tne  rest,  bewildered,  knew  not  what  to  say. 
In  these  the  stubborn  mind  and  plastic  heart 
Agreed  not  quickly,  for  the  thing  was  strange, 
An  olden  tale  with  unforeboded  end  : 
They  must  have  time.     The  crowd  soon  fell  apart, 
Some  faces  glad,  all  solemn,  and  dispersed  ; 
Except  one  woman,  who,  from  time  to  time, 
Pressed  forward,  then,  as  with  uncertain  will, 
Turned  back  as  often.     Troubled  was  her  face 
And  worn  :  within  the  hollows  of  her  eyes 
Dwelt  an  impatient  sorrow,  and  her  lips 
Had  from  themselves  the  girlish  fulness  pressed. 


LARS. 

Her  hair  hung  negligent,  though  plenteous  still ; 
And  beauty  that  no  longer  guards  itself, 
But  listlessly  beholds  its  ruin  come, 
Made  her  an  apparition  wild  and  sad, 
A  cloud  on  others'  joy. 

Lars,  as  he  left 

That  field  unsullied,  saw  the  woman  stand. 
"  Brita ! "  he  cried  ;  and  all  the  past  returned 
And  all  the  present  mixed  with  it,  and  made 
His  mouth  to  quiver  and  his  eyes  to  fill : 
"  Unhappy  Brita,  and  I  made  thee  so  ! 
Is  there  forgiveness  yet  for  too  much  love 
And  foolish  faith,  that  brought  us  double  woe  ? 
I  dare  not  ask  it ;  couldst  thou  give  unasked  ? " 
Her  face  grew  hard  to  keep  the  something  back 
Which  softened  her :  "  Make  Per  alive,"  she  said, 
"  One  moment  only,  that  he  pardon  me, 
And  thou  art  pardoned !  else,  I  think,  canst  thou 


LARS. 


Bear  silence,  as  I  bear  it  from  the  dead. 

O,  thou  hast  done  me  harm  ! "    But  Ruth  addressed 

These  words  to  her :  "  I  never  did  thee  harm, 

Yet  on  my  soul  my  husband's  guilt  to  thee 

Is  made  a  shadow  :  let  me  be  thy  friend  ! 

Only  a  woman  knows  a  woman's  need." 

Lars  understood  the  gesture  and  the  glance 
Which  Ruth  then  gave,  and  hastened  on  the  path 
To  join  his  kindred,  leaving  them  alone. 
So  Ruth  by  Brita  walked,  and  spake  to  her 
In  words  whose  very  sound  a  comfort  gave, 
Like  some  soft  wind  that  o'er  an  arid  land, 
Unfelt  at  first,  fans  on  with  cooling  wings 
Till  all  the  herbage  freshens,  and  the  soil 
Is  moist  with  dew  ;  and  Brita's  arid  heart 
Thus  opened :  "  Yea,  all  this  is  very  well. 
So  much  thou  knowest,  being  woman,  —  love 

136 


ARS. 

Of  man,  and  man's  of  thee,  and  both  declared : 
But,  say,  how  canst  thou  measure  misery 
Of  love  that  lost  its  chances,  made  the  Past 
One  dumbness,  and  forever  reckons  o'er 
The  words  unspoken,  which  to  both  were  sweet, 
The  touch  of  hands  that  never  binding  met, 
The  kisses,  never  given  and  never  took, 
The  hopes  and  raptures  that  were  never  shared,  — 
Nay,  worse  than  this,  for  she  withheld,  who  knew 
They    might    have    been,    from    him    who    never 
knew ! " 

Therewith  her  passion  loosed  itself  in  sobs, 
And  on  the  pitying  breast  of  Ruth  she  wept 
Her  heart  to  calmness ;  then,  with  less  of  pain, 
She  told  the  simple  story  of  her  life  : 
How,  scarce  two  years  before,  her  grandam  died, 
Who  would  have  seen  her  wedded,  and  was  wroth, 


LARS. 

At  times,  in  childish  petulance  of  age, 
But  kinder  —  't  was  a  blessing !  —  ere  she  die.d, 
Leaving  the  cottage  highest  on  the  slope, 
Naught  else,  to  Brita  ;  but  her  wants  were  few. 
The  garden  helped  her,  and  the  spotted  cow, 
Now  old,  indeed  :  she  span  the  winter  through, 
And  there  was  meal  enough,  and  Thorsten  gave 
Sometimes  a  fish,  because  she  grieved  for  Per  ; 
And,  now  the  need  of  finery  was  gone,  — 
For  men  came  not  a-wooing  where  consent 
Abode  not,  —  she  had  made  the  least  suffice. 
Yes,  she  was  lonely :  it  was  better  so, 
For  she  must  learn  to  live  in  loneliness. 
As  much  as  unto  Ruth  she  had  not  said 
To  any  woman,  trusting  her,  it  seemed, 
Without  a  knowledge,  more  than  them  she  knew. 
"  Yea,  trust  me,  Sister  Brita !  "  Ruth  replied, 
"  And  try  to  love  :  my  heart  is  drawn  to  thee." 

138  . 


,  . 
LARS. 

Thereafter,  many  a  day,  went  Ruth  alone      '. 

To  Brita's  cottage,  vexing  not  with  words 

That  woke  her  grief,  and  silent  as  to  Lars, 

Till  Brita  learned  to  smile  when  she  appeared, 

And  missed  her  when  she  came  not.    Now,  meanwhile, 

The  news  of  Lars,  and  Thorsten's  foiled  revenge 

Beside  the  lake  of  Graven,  travelled  far 

Past  Vik  and  Vossevangen,  o'er  the  fells, 

To  all  the  homesteads  of  the  Bergenstift ; 

And  every  gentle  heart  leaped  up  in  joy, 

While  those  of  restless  old  Berserker  blood 

Beat  hot  with  wrath.     Who  oversets  old  laws, 

They  said,  is  dangerous  ;  and  who  is  he 

That  dares  to  preach,  and  hath  not  been  ordained  ? 

This  thing  concerns  the  ministers,  they  whom 

The  State  sets  over  us,  with  twofold  power, 

Divine  and  secular,  to  teach  and  rule. 

Then  he,  the  shepherd  of  the  Ulvik  flock, 


LARS. 

Not  now  that  good  old  man,  but  one  whose  youth 
More  hateful  showed  his  Christless  bigotry, 
Made  Sabbaths  hot  with  his  anathemas 
Of  Lars,  and  stirred  a  tumult  in  the  land. 
Some  turned  away,  and  all  grew  faint  of  heart, 
Seeing  the  foothold  yield,  and  slip  ;  till  Lars, 
Now  shunned  at  home,  and  drawn  by  messages 
From  Gustaf  Hansen  and  the  faithful  souls 
In  Arendal,  said  :  "  It  is  time  to  go." 

"  Nay,  tarry  but  a  little  while,"  spake  Ruth. 
"  I  have  my  purpose  here,  as  thou  hadst  thine : 

A 

Grant  me  but  freedom,  for  the  end,  I  think, 
Is  justified." 

Lars  answered :  "  Have  thy  will ! " 

She  summoned  Brita,  and  the  twain  went  down 
To  pace  the  scanty  strand  beside  the  wave, 

140 


LARS. 

Which,  after  storm,  was  quiet,  though  the  gloom 

Of  high,  opposing  mountains  filled  the  fiord. 

Ruth  spake  of  parting  ;  Brita  answered  not, 

But  up  and  down  in  silence  walked  the  strand, 

Then  suddenly  :  "No  message  sendeth  Lars  ? 

My  pardon  he  implored ;  and  that,  to  thee, 

I  know,  were  welcome.    Hadst  thou  asked,  perchance, 

Perverse  in  sorrow,  I  should  still  withhold ; 

But  thou  departest,  who  hast  been  so  kind, 

J\nd  I  —  ah,  God !  what  else  have  I  to  give  ?" 

•"  The  Lord  requite  thee,  Brita ! "  Ruth  exclaimed  ; 

•"  The  gift  that  blesses  must  be  given  unasked: 

"What  now  remains,  is  easy.     Come  with  us, 

"With  Lars  and  me,  and  be  our  home  thy  home, 

! 

-All  peace  we  win,  all  comfort,  thine  as  ours ! " 

Once  more  walked  Brita  up  and  down  the  strand, 

IBowing  her  face  upon  her  shielding  hands, 
/ 

141 


LARS. 
W 

As  if  to  muse,  unwatched  ;  then  stood,  and  seemed 
About  to  speak,  when,  with  a  shrilling  cry 
She  sprang,  and  fell,  and  grovelled  on  her  knees, 
And  thrust  her  fingers  in  the  wet  sea-sand. 
Ruth,  all  in  terror,  ran  to  her,  and  saw 
How,  from  the  bones  of  some  long-wasted  fish 
An  osprey  dropped,  or  tempest  beat  to  death, 
Caught  in  the  breakers,  and  the  drifted  shells, 
And  tangles  of  the  rotting  kelp,  she  plucked 
Something  that  sparkled,  pressed  it  to  her  lips, 
And  cried :  "A  sign !  a  sign !  't is  grandam  speaks 2" 
Then  trembling  rose,  and  flung  herself  on  Ruth, 
And  kissed  her,  saying :  "  I  will  follow  thee. 
My  heart  assented,  yet  I  had  denied, 
But,  ere  I  spake,  the  miracle  was  done ! 
Thy  words  give  back  the  jewel  lost  with  Per : 
Tell  Lars  I  do  forgive  him,  and  will  serve 
Thee,  Ruth,  a  willing  handmaid,  in  thy  home  ! " 

142 


LARS. 

So  Brita  went  with  them  to  Arendal. 

There  milder  habits,  easier  government 

Of  bench  and  pulpit  for  a  while  left  all 

In  peace :  and  not  alone  within  the  fold 

Of  Friends  came  Brita,  but  the  Lord  inspired. 

She  spake  with  power,  as  one  by  suffering  taught 

A  chastened  spirit,  and  she  wrought  good  works. 

She  was  a  happy  matron  ere  she  died, 

And  blessing  came  on  all  ;  for,  from  that  day 

Of  doubt  and  anguish  by  the  Graven  lake, 

The  Lord  fulfilled  in  Ruth  one  secret  prayer, 

And  gave  her  children  ;  and  the  witness  borne 

By  Lars,  the  voice  of  his  unsprinkled  blood, 

Became  a  warning  on  Norwegian  hills. 

Here,  now,  they  fade.     The  purpose  of  their  lives 
Was  lifted  up,  by  something  over  life, 
To  power  and  service.     Though  the  name  of  Lars 

H3 


LARS. 

Be  never  heard,  the  healing  of  the  world 
Is  in  its  nameless  saints.     Each  separate  star 
Seems  nothing,  but  a  myriad  scattered  stars 
Break  up  the  Night,  and  make  it  beautiful. 


THE    END. 


Cambridge  :  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


